IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  Instituta  has  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  avaiiabia  for  filming.  Faatures  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  iui  a  it*  possible  da  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  paut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite.  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  una 
modification  dans  la  mAthode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiquto  ci-r1essous. 


□    Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

nn    Covers  damaged/ 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


D 


n 


n 


n 


Couverture  <endommagAe 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pelliculie 


|~n    Cover  title  missing/ 


La  titre  de  couverture  manque 


Coloured  mapa/ 

Cartes  giographiquas  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I — I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planchea  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Rail*  avac  d'autres  document* 

Tight  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serrie  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distorsion  lo  long  da  la  marg«  int^rieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pagae  blanches  ajoutiea 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaisaant  dana  ie  texte. 
mais,  lorsque  cela  Atait  possible,  cas  pages  n'ont 
pas  At*  filmies. 


D 
D 
0 
D 
0 
0 
O 
D 
O 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagias 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restauries  et/ou  pelliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Paces  dicoiories,  tachat^es  ou  piqu^es 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachies 

Showthrough/ 
Transparence 

Quality  of  print  varies/ 
Qualiti  inigale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  material  supplAmantaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  idition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pages  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc..  cnt  6ti  filmies  A  nouveau  de  facon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


0 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


There  are  some  creases  in  the  middle  of  the  pages. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  film*  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

XX 

J 

12X 


16X 


2QX 


24X 


hM^ 


32X 


The  copy  filmed  here  hes  been  reproduced  thanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

Nationai  Library  of  Canada 


L'exempiaire  fiim6  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
ginirositi  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


the  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  At6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  netteti  de  l'exempiaire  filmA,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  .imprim6e  sont  filmte  en  commen^ant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premiere  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaltra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA.  11  est  f  ilm6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

i 

2 

3 

4 

• 

5 

6 

■i^-- 


» 


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B] 


BY  AN  AMERICAN^      m^ 


'  tiu 


''SuetiMjbe  |»alriors  boast*  -vtereW  we  rotOk 

Iftt  Hrfl^  belt  coontrjr,  efer  b  at  bom*. 

'^'*^  y*lP«?*>«P«»  tfeomiiflri  w^voiiaM^  :  ^^ 

And  estuaale  (b»  blepsingt  wbicb  tbtysltei^.     -^ 

Tboufb  murioit  Uttteis  «lill  ibull  wMoii  Wd 

An  edttfti  portion  dealt  to  alltqaDkiod  t 

As  direrent  |ood.  by  art  or  nature  glveni 

To  dlffereot  oatlona  makea  tbeir  bl&iiogfe^i>.«' 


,  s(V. 


Tp>  V0LUMS9  m^^ 

iou  I. 


«» 


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PVBlilSBEP   BT  J  AMIS  Q,  Ai>A^S« 


1835« 


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inir^iift^iUm^ 


.  jmsfSKsaamsmsmamaam. 

THB  ran  \uA  jtuitompivlitd  bis -^aUf  eoitiit,  btt  hit 
4att  rayn,  dimly  flitting  on  tlie  eifMuided  tlwet  of  water  tliat 
formed  the  western  boundary  ef  our  bortson,.  displayed  a 
reHef-of  light  and  shade,  unrivaled  In  the  best  das^piatloni  . 
of  art.  The  day  had  l>een  warm,  uncomfortably  so ;  bat  a 
riting'breeze  restored  the  elasticity  of  the  air,  and  revived 
the  vigour  of  anfmatad  creation.  The  milk-maid  sang  blithe- 
ly, as  she  poised  i>^'  mllk-pails.  Ttie  plough-boy  whistled 
M'he  drove  the  esttle  to  the  weteriug-placei  Hy  holtlMM^- 
led  in  his  farmy&Td;  Ibe  good  lady  of  the  bouse  w,aso0ci^ 
pied  with  her  children,  and  1  seated  n^elf  in  the  plassav 
enjoying  the  luiury  of  sol^de,  junklst  Ijw  ejiillveBed  scenes 
ofruralpeaceand4)len^      I!  " 

i  was  aroused  from  a  deep  abstractive  flt  of  meditation,  bjr 
the  luMirse'Volce  of  oar  honest  nelghbonr  Nozbnry,  who* 
with  a 'pipe  in  his  mouth,  -was  sitting  not  three  pai^s  dis- 
tance from  me. 

•  Bless  me  r  he  eried,  taking  his  pipe  in  Ills  band,  <  what 
can  4hus>so  entirely  occupy  your  mind  ?  Bere  have  I  been 
this  half  hour  endeavoring  to  attract  your  attention,  but  I 
could  not  db(sdB«ven  so  much  as  a  nod  of  recognition.' 

*  Oh,  your  servant,  9(r.  Noxbury ;  I  beg  pardon,  but  my 
mind  was  ludeed  much  occupied.  My  publisher  faasaent  to 
tne  for  a  preface,'  ^     '     wv' 

'  A  prefaee !  Why,  then,  you  really  intend  publishing 
your  maguscript  ?'  ,       **    t    j*f 


INTROOVCTIOK. 

*You  inrpriiemt,  sir;  and  ivhatibould  prefentmy  pub* 
lithinjfil?* 

*  Fate,  mj  fHend,  fate,  that  destined  four  birth  on  the 
wrong  tide  of  the  AllantiQ.  Are  you  not  an  American  ?  Can 
yout  then,  hope  to>ie  with  a  native  ofBurupe  ?* 

,  'Ton  provoke  noy  patience,  Mr.  Nozbury.  Am  I  not  a 
deicendant  of  thoie  lame  Kuropeans,  whom  you  eztoi  so 
highly?' 

*  And  so  are  all  Americans,  Canadians,  Nova-Scotlans, 
New-Brunswickera,  Tanlcees.  &c.  They  all  doubtless  de- 
rive their  descent  from  the  nativea  of  Europe ;  yet  whoev- 
er beard  of  a  Skakttpeare,  a  AoetfM,  a  Tasio,  a  Milton,  a 
Cameillef  anAumtf,  a  Robertton,  an  JiddU*n,  not  to  men- 
tion the  immortal  geniuses  of  the  present  day ;  who  ever 
heard  ofoneofthose  being  born  in  America?  And  the  best 
Judges  allow  that  (be  human  race  degenerates  in  America.* 

*  Great  God !  Can  this  be  borne  with  patience  ?  Can  I 
who  feel  that  vital  spark,  that  emanation  from  the  Deity, 
first  breathed  into  man  at  his  creation,  raising  me  above  all 
materiality,  and  bidding  me,  by  (be  divine  pursuit  of  knowl- 
edge, to  imitate  and  follow  in  (be  paths  of  superior  intelli- 
gences ?  Can  it  be  told,  (bat  (his  divine  emanation  is  cunfin^ 
ed  to  one  pardcniar  spot  of  the  earth  ?  Mr.  Noibury,  com- 
pel e  the  rivers,  (he  moun(ain8,  (he  lakes,  and  the  plaigsof 
your  native  country ;  compare  them  with  the  s(upendou8 
works  of  Nature  ever  present  In  America,  and  then  say,  can 
'  man  te  the  only  growth  (bat  dwindles  here  ?' 

*  Oh,  pray  descend  from  (he  ilouds,  my  young  friend,' 
cried  our  portly  neighbour,  laughing.     *  it  would  be  too  fa- 

^tiguiug  an  excursion  for  mn  to  follow  you  (here.    And  now 
answer  me  in  the  language  of  common  sense,  can  the  littra* 


■"N. 


IM*U 


nfTRODUCTION. 


ture  of  America  be  coqipared  with  tb^t  of  Europe  ?'  fuil 
he  ezultingly  laid  an  emphaait  on  the  last  sentence, 

*  No  sir.  I  acknowledge  in  that  respect,  our  present  in- 
feriority. The  school-boy  coooiiig  otrer  his  lesson,  canpot  in 
acquirements  be  compared  wiib  his  preceptor  ;  but  mfty  lie 
nut  in  the  course  of  years,  fie  even  with  hit  teacher  ?— 
America  is  young,  but  is  fast  verging  towards  maturit;^ ;  and 
the  country  that  in  its  infancy  produced  a  W^mw^ton, 
and  a  Frahklin,  may  in  Its  riper  years,  become  a  iunidar 
ry,  whose  effulgence  shall  extend  |o  all  parisof  thtfloli«/ 

*  And  my  young  friend  here,  is  to  be  the  instromtnt  to 
bring  about  this  *  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished  ?* 

*  Mistake  me  not,  Mr.  Noxbury.  I  am  far  liroill  baring 
the  vanity  to  imagine  my  talents  equal  to  those  of  many  of 
my  countirymen  in  all  parts  of  f^oilh  America.  But  ttlll 
may  I  not  endeavour  to  follow  io  the.patb  of  koow ledge,  ao4 
imitate,  thou|;h  at  a  humble  distaiice,  tboso  great  geoluset 
who  have  gone  before  us,  tvhose  mortal  remains  now  lie 
mouldering  in  the  dust,  but  who  have  left  us  transcripts  of 
their  minds,  that  will  defy  (be  power  of  (he  destroye.r 
time,  as  long  as  any  parts  of  our  globe  shall  rjdtain  Iracea  of 
civilixation.* 

*  And  so  my  young  enthusiast,  instead  of  devoting  your 
time  to  some  more  lucrative  employm.ent,  wherein,  with 
proijper  industry,  you  might  acquire  a  sufficiency  of  that  de- 

'ili|eratum  of  life,  that  magnet  of  attraction,  cash,  you  mean 
to  sacrifice  all  your  powers  of  exertion  to  study,  and  author- 
ship, for  (he  chimerical  prospect  of  al  length  obtaining  a 
niche  in  the  temple  of  renown  7' 

If  su(ih  were  my  design,  air,  my  choice  might  not  be  deem- 
ed singular.  EJveQ.iti  America,  are  (here  not  many  living 
persons  who  are  proofs,  that  the  literary  character  of  Ame- 


X 


INTRODUCI^fON. 


dcivii  Tilt  riling  into  Eminence  ?  How  itttny  men  dlitin* 
^oiilied  for  tlieir  acqfliftnenU  ki  Iit«r«tnre7  How  many 
eminent  for  Itieir  Rklll  in  the  arii  and  iciencei,  nowrecidiog 
4n  all  oor  principal  dtlet  F  Ba€ih  of  our  l^firned  profeuioni 
•lao  containi  •unmlMn  cclebmled  for  tlMlr  knowledge  and 

I, 

acquiremenlt.    Hare  we  not  eloquent  orators  in  oar  senile, 
and  tone  dlitlnguiilKtd  pollti^iai<is  In  all  deparlnenta  of  our 
go? eminent  ?  Obierfe  (be  general  extent  of  information 
^dHRiied  among  the  mats  of  our  population,  and  then  blame 
;•  yoong  American  for  an  engrouing  attachment  to  t4ie  por- 
suit  of  teaming.    I  may  at4eaitondeavor  to  cultivate  to  the 
.ntmoit,  the  copabilities  bestowed  on  me  \>f  t4ie  hand  of  n^ 
.lofo.    1  idly  be  lo^efatigdlyKs  In  t6e  pursuit  of  lcnow|^dge» 
audi  trust  that  a  discriminating  and  liberal  public  will  re- 
. ceito  my  pi>oductions  with  Indulgence;  and  then  perhaps 
on  ft,  future  dayi -I  may  produce  a  woik  more  worthy  of 
their  encouragementi  and  aiore  calculated  tp  do  honqr  to 
,  our  netlTo  country.* 

•  But  the  critics,  my  friend  ?* 

*  Not  e?en  that  formidable  n^me  shall  deter  me  from  sub- 
mitling  ray  intended  publication  to  the  ioipectioii  of  mj 
country itten.  Qur.reviewst  Mr.  Noxbury,  are  jpoRt^  con- 
ducted by  ipen  of  cfindour  |ind  liberality,  who  will  not  ex« 
pect  perfection  from  a  young  and  unknown  autho^.  l|r(ut 
that  my  pages  will  not  be  found  detrimental  to  the  ,greot 
cause  of  religion  and  morality.  In  my  tale  of  *  Tonnewon- 
jie,*  I  have  endeavored  }o  describe  some  of  the  causes  of  the 
spirit  of  emigration  so  predominant  among  the  citizens  of 
America,  and  also  the  general  habits  prevalent  In  many  of 
our  new  settlements.  I  wished  to  demonstrate  the  effect 
of  edvcation,  and  accidental  circumstances,  in  forming  thje 


A 


\ 


...^ 


INTnODUCTION. 


general  and  individual  charaeter;  and,  for  the  lake  or„€ofi> 
tratt,  bare  extended  my  plot  to  Ibe  old  world.  I  wished^ 
aiKO,  to  ihew  the  vital  Importance  of  correcting  tbe  violent 
temper,  di»pla7ed  by  many  children,  before  babit  ahali  bare 
formed  these  cxecretccncei  of  the  mind  Into  Inieparabie 
parts  of  Ibe  pertonal  character.  I  trusts  Mr.  Noxbury,  that 
a  liberal  pablie  will  overlook  many  defecta  In  the  execotlon' 
of  my  work,  from  a  eoniideration  of  my  motlfet,  and  by 
the  encouragement  beitbwed  on  my  attempt  to  pleaat  tbem^ 
tndace  some  Americans  of  superior  talenttr  to  dlBVOte  tbeir 
abilities  to  the  general  service  and  amufement  of  llieir 
countrymen.* 

t'Well,  mj  young  friend,*  said  our  honest  Mlghbouil^  rli* 
Irgand  heartily  shaking  me  by  the  hand,  *l  will  no  longer 
eiercise  your  patience  by  contradiction.  Paraue  tbe  bent 
of  your  Inclination,  since  such  Is  your  dcterfDinationi  and  I 
sincerely  wish  you  success  in  the  path  yon  liave  chosen..  ••-«-> 
1  fear  I  have  detained  you  from  writing  your  Preface ;  but, 
perhaps.  If  you  were  to  commit  our  conversation  to.  writing, 
tt  might  serve  you  for  an  Introduction.'  '  * 

Upon  further  consideration  of  Mr.  Noxbury*s  bint,  I  even 
eonoluded  on  following  It ;  and  so,  Mr.  Publishert  1  leod  yon 
this,  Instead  of  a  Prefece. 


.*« 


1  '-f  * 


\ 


f 


\ 


IV. 


..# 


ATAIjE. 


CHAPTER  L 

Ui)  nial  qui  rcpand  la  lerreiir, 
Mai  que  ie  del  en  nn  fnreur  ^    '* 

Iiiveata  pour  punir  les  crimes  de  la  (erre. 
,«  La  FoNTAiirc. 

rr  was  in  the  Autumn  6f  179G.  The  yellow  fe- 
Ter,  that  terrible  scourge,  was  spreading  its  ravages 
in  New- York.  The  city  was  nearly  deserted  by  those 
who  had  the  means  of  removal:  but  the* adjacent 
country  resounded  with  unusual  noise,  bustle,  and 
activity.  The  day  had  been  uncommonly  sultry. 
All  nature  seemed  exhausted,  under  tlie  scorching 
influence  of  the  burning  sun.  At  length,  the  fiery  lu- 
minary sunk  beneath  the  western  horizon.  The  wa- 
ters of  the  majestic  Hudson,  gliding  by  in  soft  placid- 
ity, reflected  the  burnished  canopy  of  the  serene  sky, 
.  studded  with  myriads  of  stars.  A  gentle  breeze,  from 
the  expanded  ocean,  seemed  to  refresh  wearied  na- 
ture, and  to  infuse  new  life  into  animate<)  creation. 

Mr.  Marvin,  after  partaking  the  refreshing  bever- 
age, imported  through  such  perils  from  the  cast,  that 
herb  so  famous  in  the  annals  of  American  independ- 
ence, laid  aside  his  morning  gown,  resumed  his  coat, 
hat,  and  cane,  and  sallied  forth  from  the  farm  house, 
in  which  he  had  sought  refuge  from  the  pestilence. 

The  Hudson  separated  him  from  the  city,  anil 
state  of  New- York ;    and,  as  he  enjoyed  the  <:ool  of 

1 

4„  OV 


cr 


I* 


tlje  evenins;,  in  a  walk  along  the  New-Jersey  bank 
musing  on  the  fatal  scourge,  that  was  desolating'  the 
city,  he  jmused  near  a  landing  place.     A  boat  had 
lust  arrived,  tilled  with  passengers,  who  separated  iti 
flJifcrent  directions. 

An  ©Id  man  stepped  from  tJie  boat.  He  held  a 
child  m  his  arms,  and  hurrying  forward  with  unequal 
steps,  and  agitated  -air,  he  presently  came  in  contact 
with  Mr.  Marvin.  "Ah  Monsieur,  je  vous  demande 
pardon,''  said  he,  mechanically  putting  his  hand  to 
his  hat.  The  gentleman  turned  towards  him.  Thi* 
moon  shone  full  in  his  face,  ^hc  FrenclMiian  star- 
ted, "Ah  mon  dieu!  tis  our  good  neighbor,  dieusoit 
beni!  Ah  Monsieur,  take  dec^rc  de  pauvic  Icetlc 
Theodore,  He  be  saved  from  de  coutcaux  de.s 
regicides,  only  to  die  with  de  pestilence,  if  3 ou  no 
j>ity  him.  Madame,  his  Mama,  she  die.  Ah  moii 
ditju!  she  be  dead,  me  here,  etpersonnc  to  give  her 
'^^  Adieu  Monsieur,  adieu.  Que  dieu  vous 
bcinisse!"T-7-Then  laying  the  sleeping  child  at  th<«. 
feet  of  our  aquaintance,  be  sprang  into  a  boat,  tliJit 
was  pushing,  otr for  the  city.  4* 

Mr.  Marvin  was  entranced.  He  gazed  aficr  the 
Frenchman.  The  boat  was  nearly  out  of  sight.  He 
looked  at  the  child.  It  began  to  move.     "Ah  mama 

mapauvre  mama,"  said  tic  poor 'ittlefellow.awaken- 
jng;  and  he  rubbed  bis  eyes?  and  rose  on  his  little 
feet,  "Joseph,  Joseph," he  cried;  but'no  Joseph ap- 
pearmg.  he  (urru.'d  to  gaze  at  the  sti'anger,  who  stood. 
Mc^iJe  hini.     ]\|r.  Marvin, was  aHectcd. 

"  Who  are  you,  my  little  man /" 
1-  *'v"?"  Theodore,"  answered  the  child,  in  broken 
English;  "but  where  be  Joi^eph?" 

"Who  is  Joseph?" 

"/2t;^P^*'  g«»^^  Joseph,  who  come  wid  mama,  et  le 
petit  Theodore  de  France.  Oh  ma  pauvre  Mama, 
where  be  mama?  where  be  Joseph /" 


'flUf 


^ 


/ 


'•  f  cannot  abandon  this  child,"  said  Mr.  Marvin  to 
himself,  "although  he  is  left  under  my  protection,in  a 
very  singular  manner.     Martha  will  think  it  very 
strange ;  but  probably  his  relations  will  reclaim  him,^ 
when  the  fever  has  subsided." 

"  How  old  are  you,  my  little  fellow  ?" 

"Theodore  soon  be  four  years  old,  Mama  say 
todcr  day;  but  where  be  mama,  pauvre  sick  mama ? 
\h  mon  cher  Monsieur,  bring  me  to  mama.  Oh  Jo- 
seph, Joseph,  ou  cs  tu?" 

" My  dear  little  boy,"  said  the  gentleman,  "will 
yon  go  home  with  me  ?" 

"  To  Mama,"  said  the  child,  extending  his  hand, 
"Ah  you  bring  Theodore  to  Mama?" 

The  gentleman  took  the  proffered  little  hand,  and 
led  the  innocent  prattler  to  the  farm  house.  He  wa» 
met  on  the  Piazza,  by  a  middle  aged  female,  in  a 
very  plain  dress. 

"Brother,  is  that  you  ?" 

"Yes,  Martha,"  said  the  gentleman,  presenting  h^ 
young  charge ;  "  and  1  have  brought  you  a  little  com- 
panion." 

"A  child!  where  did  you  meet  witii  him?" 

]\Ir.  Marvin  related  his  rencontre  wi&  the  French- 
man. 

"  Strange !  astonishing !  But  what  shall  we  do  with 
him?"  .  . 

"Martha,  can  we  abandoa  this  child,  so  singularly 
committed  to  our  care?" 

"No,  God  forbid!"  said  the  sister,  "It  is  Provi- 
dence, who  has  committed  him,  to  our  care.  We 
have  neither  of  us  children,  brother  j  let  us  then  con- 
sider him  as  the  gift  of  God." 

"  He  will  probably  be  reclaimed  by  his  relations, 
after  the  fever  shall  have  subsided,"  observed  Mr. 
Marvin.      The  female  took  th<?  child  by  the  hand  ^ 


% 


*^- 


iSk 


'W^' 


■igt 


if-k 


:  > 

r    1 


''!ftly  dear  little  boy,  will  you  come  in  with  me,  and 
get  some  supper?"  ^ 

"  To  find  mama  ?  Ah  Madame,  bring  me  to  mama." 

"  I  cannot  to  night,  my  dear.     Your  mama  is  on 
'  Hie  other  side  of  the  river." 

'^Ahmy  mamc^sick^she  cry,  no  to  see  her  petit 
Theodore." 

"  WHb  is  your  mama,  my  dear?  And  where  is  she^ 
to  be  found?" 

But  the  child  could  not  answer  these  questions,  and 
^  further  particulars  could  be  obtained  from  him, 
but  that  his  mama  was  sick,  &nd  Joseph  came  with 
them  from  France.  He,-  however,  eat  a  hearty  sup- 
per of  bread  and  milk;  when  our  new  acquaintance 
soothed  litm  to  sleep,  and  laid  him  in  her  bed. 

The  following  morning,  as  the  brother  and  sister 
sit  at  bre^ft^st,  with  their  new  charge,  the  landlady 
hurried  in. . 

"Ah  Mr.  Marvin,  Miss  Marvin,  have  you  heard  the 
news?"  ■ 

"What  news,  MiB.Regna?" 
^  v"  Indeed,  I  guess,  instead  of  you  Yorkers  taking 
sefiige  in  our  housen,  we  must  go  off  further,  and 
seek  refuge  for  ourselves." 

"  Why,  what  has  happened  ?" 

"Happened  indeed;  the  country  ig strewed  with 
dead.  As  Anthony  went  to  the  field  this  morning, 
he  stumbled  oVer  two  dead  corpses ;  and  Peter  found 
one  in  the  loft,  among  the  hay:  And  as  neighbour 
Hilher  went  to  open  his  door,  he  stumbled  over 
something,  and  what  should  it  be,  but  a  dead  man^ 
lyil  »black  with  the^ver.  Ah  cannot  those  Yorkers 
st&y  and  die,sincej^e  they  must,  in  their  own  city  ?  And 
not  be  bringing  fim>e6tiience  to  honest  country  peo- 
ple's families ;  ^anoblocking  up,  with  their  dead  bod- 
ies, the  doors  of  oqjf  housen,  and  our  banis^  and  wtr 


I 


'*% 


* 


stahles  ?  Even  the  very  animals  will  sicken,  and  we 
shall  loose  them." 

Miss  Marvin  shuddered.  "How  you  talk,  Mrs. 
Re,:5na;  are  you  not  afraid  of  the  judgment  of  God, 
and  that  you  may  yourself  catch  the  contagion  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  am  too  much  afeard,  but  we  will  catch 
the  fever!  I  will  shut  up  the  housen,  and  pay  a  visit 
to  my  sister,  who  lives  far  to  the  westward.  Black 
Caesar  and  Betty,  may  stay  and  take  care  of  the  cat- 
tle. Ah  them  Yorkers,  if  they  would  but  stay  at 
home!  But  the  sooner  we  are  off,  the  better."  So 
saying,  she  hurried  away,  to  prepare  for  removal. 

The  brother  and  the  sister  then  deliberated  on 
what  had  best  be  done.  He  was  at  the  head  of  ^ 
considerable  commercial  establishment;  but  had,  on 
the  preceding  week,  shut  up  his  shop,  which  lay  in 
the  most  affected  part  of  th6  city,  his  clerks  having 
previously  abandoned  him,^  and  sought  for  compara- 
tive safety,  among  their  relations  in  the  country. 

Mr.  Marvin  with  his  sister^  had,  as  we  have  seen, 
retired  to  the  Jersey  share ;  hut  here  infection  seem- 
ed ^  follow  them;'  and  their  deliberations  of  the 
morning,  concluded  in  a  resolution  to  pay  a  visit  to 
an  acquaintance,  who  resided  in  New- York  State,  a- 
bout  forty  miles  north  of  the  city. 

They  accordingly  commenced  the  journey  the 
same  afternoon,  taking  with  them  their  new  prote- 
gee. 

•  They  proceeded  in  a  sloop,  about  thirty  miles  up 
the  Hudson  river,  and  then  hired  a  wagon  to  contky^ 
them  to  their  friends. 

Mrs.  Vanderhausen  met  them  at  the  door,  and  cor- 
dially welcomed  them  to  her  best  room,  the  window 
shutters  of  which  were  opened  for  their  reception ; 
but,  before  introducing  new  acquaintance,  I  should 
perform  the  ceremony  of  introduction  to  our  old 
ones, 

1* 


« 


*» 


# 


4f 


m- 


I* 

it- 


Mr.  Marvin  was,  at  this  period,  about  live  and  ^hir-  - 
ty.  Jlis  sister  thought  him  very  handsome.   He  had^ 
ii)  rcaHty,  fine  black-eyes,  black  hair,^nd  a  very  dark 
complexion.  He  was  rather  stiff  in  his  manner,  whicir 
remains  of  rusticity  -had  not  worn  off,  although  he . 
had  taken  lessons  in  dancing  &nd  fencing;  for  lie  was 
on  the  wrong  side  of  twenty,  when  acquiring  those 
accoYnpHshfnents :  but  he  made  up  in  ceremony  and 
genuine  kindness,  what  he  wanted  in  ease  and  polish. 
Add  to  this,  he  was  alw  ays  well  dressed,  and  decent* 
ly  in  tlic  fasluon;  and  aided  by  an  imposing  gravity, 
from   which  he  rarely  unbended,  ho  commanded 
much  defetenvc  and  respect,  from  the  generality  of 
his  acquaintance.     Yet,  whoever  could  penetrate 

"^furthiex  tlian  outward  appearance,  wouldperceive,  in 
the  comitenance  of  Ephraim  Marvin,  the  reflection 

^  tof  a  stil^iig  mind,  with  great  encrjpy  and  persever-^ 
ance. 

Mies  Martha  Marvin  wa«  a.ftiaiden  of  forty. .  Hejc 
countenance  was,  .at  first  view,  rather  forbidding. 
I^er  complexion  was  the  same  as  her  brothers,  but 
iiotinoulded  into  any  expression  of&ymmctry  or  beaui 
ty»     She  wore  no  head  dress,  but  her  long  black  hair, 

^  which,  though  arranged  in  rather  an  antique  manner, 
was  always  extremely  smooth,  and .  shining,  lies 
person  was  tall  and  thin,  but  very  muscular,  and  her 
manner  rather  stifF  and  reserved.  Her  dress  was 
plain,and  what  little  attemptsut  fashidnability  she  as- 
sum^djWere  lost  in  her  want  of  ease  and  native  grace. 
Vet, beneath  this  plain  exterior,  lay  the  kindest  heart) 
that  ever  beat  in  mortal  bosom.  Herinemory  was, 
likewise,  well  stored  with  the  w^orks  of  our  best  Au- 
thors ;  and  she  knew  the  Scriptures  by  rote ;  yet,  ei- 
thjeix  owing  to  tlue  habit  of  submitting  her  own  judg- 
u^nt  tothe  control  of  another,  for  she  relied  with  the 
most  implicit  deference  on  the  opinion  of  her  broth« 
cr,  aiid  quoted  his  remarks  a.*  axioms ;  ©r,  her  jj^dg-i 


f-'^fefcrl' 


^1- 


ment  not  being  equal  to  her  memory,  she  possessed  " 
by  no  means,  the  real  information,  one  would  at  first 
have  been  led  to  expect;  but  rather  resembled  a  !>»  • 
brary,  where  all  the  information  you  desire,  is  con- 
tained, but  you  must  be  at  the  trouble  of  collecting,, 
and  digesting  it  yourself. 

This  couple,  with  little  Theodore,  were  most  hos- 
pitably received  by  the  portly  Mrs.  Vanderhausen, 
and  her  cherry  cheeked  daughter,  Cornelia; 

The  farm  house  was  built  after  the  Dutch  iuanner, 
with  a  laipge  Piazza  in  front,  and  benches  ranged  a- 
gainst  the  house.  Every  thing  bespoke  rustic  plen- 
ty. The  orchard  abounded  in  fruit.  Th'<»-garden 
was  filled  with  vegetables,  the  farm  yard  with  poul- 
try, the  fields  wifh  cattle,  and  ever^  necessary,  everf 
luxury  of  life,  seemed  contained  within  the  farm. 

A  number  of  Negro  children  were  playiigp  about ' 
the  yard,  while' the  services  of  the  elder  ^li^  and  of 
their  mother  Betty,  were  called  inter  re^yjisition,  to 
prepare  tea  for  the  company ;  for  it  was  near  four  io . 
the  afternoon,  and  ijvhire  the  good  Mrs.  Vanderhau- 
sen  bustled  about,  ''on  hospitable  thoughts  intent," 
the  ruddy  Cornelia  remained  onthe  Piazza,  to  enter- 
tain their  guests. 

Soon  the  -tabl^,  laid'in  the  best  room,  groans  be- 
neath the  weight  of  various  kinds  of  cakes,  every  va- 
riety of  fjftiitj  preserved'in  every  variety  of  inanner; 
dried  ham,  dded  beef,  cheese^  hot  rolk  and  butter, 
tea,  &c. 

Summoned  by  the  sound  of  i  horn,  Mr.  Vandcr- 
h^usen,  with  his  son  Anthony,  and  hfs  negro  Caesar, 
made  their  appearance  from  the  field.  The  father 
and  son,  shakmg  hiknds^'  with  their  guests,  received 
them  in  a  very  hearty  manner;  while  Caesar,  grin- 
rang  and  shewing  his  whiter  teeth,  hoped  that  massa 
Marvin  had  enjoyed  good  heeilth,  since  he  was  last  at 
Vanderhausen  faim.^ 


y" 


8 


Having  brought  pur  party  into  sale  harbourage  wc 
will  look  back  a  Httle,  and  become  further  acquain- 
ted with  our  personages,  before  we  proceed  with  our 
history. 

Ephraim  Marvin  was  the  third  son  of  a  fanner  in 
the  neighborhood  of  New- Haven,  Connecticut,  and 
until  his  fifteenth  year,  assisted  his  father  and  broth- 
ers, in  the  cultivation  of  the  farm;  attending  occa- 
sionally the  village  school,  during  the  winter  season ; 
but,  receiving  a  cut  in  his  knee,  as  he  was  chopping 
wood  for  the  fire,  this  accident  occasioned  a  total 
change  in  his  future  views  and  prospects. 

The  Qurc  was  very  lingering,  and  it  was  feared, 
that  Ejphr^im  would  be  lame  through  life.     This 
woulU  prove  a  great  inconvenience  to  a  farmer. 
•  Study  was  then  the  only  resource,  and  the  lad  must 
push  his  way  up  in  life  by  learning.     So  thought  his 
parents ;  and,  fortunately,  Ephraim  was  much  addic- 
ted to  study,  and  having  resigned  his  pretension  to 
th6  homestead,  to  an  eldeV  brother,  he  limped  to 
school,  and  commenced  a  wider  range  of  studies. 
The  progress  he  made  at  school  in  Arithmetic,  and 
Mathematics  was  considerable;  and,  from  some  old 
books  in  possession  of  the  family,  and  others  that  he 
borrowed  from  his  neighbours,  he  acquired  a  consid- 
erable knowledge  of  Geography,  and  History.    But 
lieoks   of  controversy  were  what  mostly  abound- 
ed in  his  neighbourliood;  and  Ephraim  was  very 
fond  of  arguing  on  divinity,  with  his  mother  and  sis- 
te"r  Martha*     From  this  the  transition  to  metaphys- 
ics was  very  easy ;  and  our  young  American  was  soon 
lost  in  its  mazes ;  but  here  he  had  his  arguments  to 
himself,     llie  old  people  checked  the  prophane 
suggestions,  sometimes  engendeired  in  the  ^rtile  im- 
agination of  their  son;  while  sister  Maiptha  follow- 
€d,  with  cautious  stepsf  her  daring  conductor;  but, 
far  from  controverting,  submitted  with  imj^it  defers 


,  '         .9 

(^\ce  to  that  prodcgy  of  learning,  lier  handsonll^ 
brother,  whom  she  already  began  to  idolize  in  her 
heart,  as  the  paragon  of  perfection. 

Ephraim  was  now  nineteen,  and  it  wad  high  time^ 
to  choose  a  profession.     He  had  acquired  all  the 
village  schoolmaster  could  teach.     The  funds  of  his 
father  could  afford  no  higher  means  of  instruction; 
for  on  a  farm  of  fifty  acres  he  supported  a  family  of 
nine  children.      Btit"  Ephraim  Marvin  was  a4ad  of  ^ 
spirit.     He  was  in  his  own  estimation  very  learned, 
had  entirely  recovered  of  his  lameness,  and  wished 
for  a  wider  range  to  his  genius,  than  Connecticut 
could  afford*     With  a  large  silk  handkerchief  full  of 
necessaries,"  and  five  dollars  in  his  pocket,  he  went 
on  board  a  sloop,  and  was  landed  in  New- York.  But 
he  sooa  found  that  a  capital  of  five  dollars  would  not 
set  a  man  up  in  business  at  New^York;^  nor  did  his 
learning  command  the  respect  it  did  in  his  native 
village.    Some  had  even  the  eiSrontery  to  laugh  at 
what  they  termed  his  rusticity  and  self-importance ; 
but  he  resisted  theic  ill  i%|anners  with  becoimnggrav* 
ity,  and  stood  self-colli^ted  within  himself.    His  lit- 
tle stock  was  neariy  exhausted,  and  still  he  had  nJt 
succeeded  in  any  attempt  to  obtain  employmein^ 
**  New-York  city  is  not  at  present  the  place  for  me,"  * 
said  Ephraim  to  himself,  *•*•  I  must  Beek  farther,  and 
go  where  learning  is  duty  appreciated." 

The  first  rays  of  the  next  morning's  lun^nary 
found  Ephraim  Marvin  three  miles  from  the  city, 
travelling  on  foot,  with  his  handkerchief  of  necessa- 
ries in  his  hand.-  fferwas,  towards  evening,  joined 
'  by  a  farmer  on  horse  back,  who  reined  in  his  horse, 
that  he  might  converse  with  l^e  foot  passenger. 

A  little  desultory  chit  chat  brought  on  a  certain 
degree  of  intimacy^  and  the  stranger,  on  stop^nng  at 
ft  subalan^al  looking  iarm  house,  invited  Qitritiae'' 


t/ 


W^* 


*^ 


la 


mnt  A  enter ;  who  gla()ly  complied,  and  partook  with 
his  host  of  a  hearty  supper.  ^  . 

Our  young  Yankee  endeavoured  to  make  himself 
agreeable,  and  soon  inspired  his  host  and  hostess, 
with  a  wonderffll  opinion  of  the  learning  and  acquire^ 
ments  of  their  guest* 

Jo  the  course  of  th^  evening,  he  learnt  that  the  vil' 
Tlige  school  was  vacatit;  the  former  incL  ^bcnt  hav- 
ing abandoned  his  school  house,  for  the  profession  of 
the  law.     The  idea  of  supplying  his  place,  immedi- 
► '  \        ately  occured  to  dur  New-fenglander.     He  proffer- 
.M...     cd  his  services,  and  through    the  influence  of  Mr. 
Vanderhausen,  was  installed  in  the  .office  of  school- 
master to  the  village.     He  Was,  in  return,  particu- 
Tarly  assiduous  to  instil  leamiiig  into  the  minds  of  the 
bold  Anthony,  and  little  dimpled  Cornelia :  and  the 
intimacyv  thus  commence^  CODi|^ed  long  after  the 
worldly  prospects  of  Marvin  had  Indergone  a  mate< 
^    rial  change. 

In  five  years,  our  friend  Ephraim  saved  two  hun-^ 
dred  dollars^    He  had  now  a  capital,  and  might  re- 
turn to  New* York.     Here  he  establishiBd  a  grocery 
jKop,  on  a  small  scale  at  first;  but 'extending  his  bu- 
ipReBs,  as  his  mea^encreased. 
rf     Meanwhile,  sister  Martha  began  to  be  considered  ^ 
an  old  maid.     She  had  entered  her  thirtieth  year, 
when  an  uncle  died,  who  left  her  five  hundred  dol- 
X    lars;  and,  while  considering  on  the  lUfei^  manner  of 
disposing  of  her  fortune,  she  rcceiired  a  letter  from 
her  favourite  brother,  containing  an  account  of  hi^ 
Hew  establishment,  his  hopes,  and  prospects.     "  My 
five  hundred  dollars,"  thought  Martha,  "may  be  a  > 
great  object  to  my  brother,  at  his  first  commencement: 
in  business."    Her  father  was-dead :  her  sisters  were 
all  married.     Her  eldest  brother  had  proceedisd  to 
the  new  countries ;  and  her  widowed  mother  rtttidcd 
with  the  second  son,  who  possessed  the  homestead. 


Dr' 


irr^i--:' 


#. 


■t 


"4^ 


Martha  wrote  to  Ephraim,  oflfuring  to  keep  house 
^>r  him,  and  resign  her  newly  acquired  fortune  to  hi; 
disposal,  as  an  addition  to  his  stock  in  trade.  Tlie 
brother  gladly  accepted  her  procosal,  knowing  how 
valuable  her  economical  qualities  would  be  to  hirp, 
independent  of.  her  ready  money,  np  mem  acquisi- 
tion to  one,  whose  whole  cap&l.did  not  exceed  three  * 
hundred  dollars. 

The  perils  of  the  voyage,  and  unattended,  were 
nothing  to  Martha's  sisterly  affection.  Behold  then^ 
then,  settled  on  the  hrst  floor  of  a  small,  but  neat 
-house,  in  the  Bowery.  She  managed  the  household 
^ifFairs,  with  the  utmost  neatness  and  economy,  still, 
^however,  contriving, to  preserve  an  appearance  <fi' 
gentility,  far  above  their  neighbours  in  the  same  sit* 
nation. 

It  was  not long^be fore  the  attentive  Martha  diseov- 
r red  that  the  boy  in  the  shop  clieated  them.  He  was 
therefore  dismissed,  and  she  likewise  undertook  the  ^ 
charge  of  that  dcpartment,^in  conjunction  with  E- 
phraim,  who  was  necessarily  often  aipent,  in  attends 
4ince  on  the  -markets. 

By  their  joint  and  close  attention  to  business,  the 
icapitaLencreasedi:  and  the  conceni  was  removed  to 
the  lower  end  ctf  Water-street,  where  it  continued  to 
flourish ;  and  Miss  Marvjh,  released  from  her  attcn- 
ilance  on  the  shop,  took  possession  of  a  neat  house, 
lliat  her  brother  had  lately  purcliased  in  the  Bowery, 
where  she  presided  with  an  increase  of  consequenc<|» 
W  hile  Mr.  Marvin,  besides  attending  to  businesl,  . 
took  lessons  in  dancing  and  fencin-r,  to  qualify  him  for 
appearing  hi  a  genteel  manner  in  the  higher  circle^, 
4o  wjiich  he  was  now  a^ijitted. 


y^i 


■0 


^ 


la 


CHAPTER  II. 

He  led  heii9to  the  naptial  bower. 
And  nestled  closely  by  her  side ; 
The  fondest  bridegroom  of  that  hour, 
AnA  iibe,  the  Aiost  delighted  bride. 
When,  oil!  with  gri^f  the  muse  relates 
The  mournful  sequel  of  my  tale. 


Ja0Oi 


A  very  sociable  evening  was  passed  by  our  friends. 
BIr.'Iddrvin  had  many  enquiries  to  make,  concern^ 
inghis  former  pupils  and  old  friends;  and  the  Van- 
•derhauscn  famify  were  anxious  to  hear  all  the  news 
from  the  city*  /fhe  desolation  occasioned  by  th^ 
icv^  was  a  nev^r  failing  topic  with  the  good  farmer 
an^rnis  wife ;  while  their  daughter  endeavoured  to 
obtain  information  from  Miss  Marvin,  concerning  the 
latest  most  fashionable  bonnets,  declaring  that  the 
last  one,  sent  her  from  the  city,was  so  dutchiiied,  that, 
absolutely,  she  would  .lot  long  be  seen  wearing  it. 

Miss  Marvin,,  with  great  pomposity,  endeavoured 
to  answer  her  enquiries,  aiid  harangued,  in  a  very 
dignified  manner,  concerning  the  fashions:  but  soon 
the  depopulating  epidemic  again  absoisbcd  their  un- 
divided attention,  until  the  family  and  their  guasts 
retired  for  the  night. 

Little  Theodore  slept  with  his'  new  protectress, 
aunf  Martha,  as  she  taught  him  to  call  her,  to  whom 
he  had  already  begun  to  attach  himself.  His  arrival 
with  the  Marvins,  had  occasioned  little  sensation  at 
Vanderhausen  farm ;  as  they,  unwilling  to  excite  cu- 
riosity concerning  him,  had  merely  said,  that  he  was 
the  son  of  a  friend,  who  had  confided  him  to  their 
care.  . 

Our  citizena  rennained  quietly  with  the  Vander- 
hausen family,  until  the  progress  oUthe  infectioia^as 


■% 


13 


nrrested;  and  the  health  officer  gave  public  notice^ 
/hat  ail  miprht  return  in  perfect  safety  to  the  city. 

Again  Miss  Marvin  took  possession  of  their  neat 
little  house,  in  the  Bowery.  A^ain'  the  business 
nourished  in  Water-street,  and  Mr.  Mar\iii  was  look^ 
ed  up  to  by  his  neighbours,  as  one' who  would  be  in 
time,  if  he  were  not  already,  a  rich  man.  The  win- 
ter passed  over,  and  no  enquiries  were  made  after  lit- 
tle Theodore.  They,  at  length,  concluded  that  his 
parents  must  have  perished  by  the  fever.  That  they 
were  strangers,  and  from  France,  was  evident,  from 
the  answers  of  the  child;  most  probably,  refugees 
from  the  revolution.  But  the  kind-hearted  Martha 
had  now  become  so  much  attached  to  her  little 
charge,  that  she  -would  not  willingly  have  parted 
with  him,  to  any  claimant;,  and  the  imposing  grfi^vity 
of  the  brother  was  not  proof  against  the  infantile  en- 
dearments of  his  adopted  son. 

In  the  spring,  Theodore  was  sent  to  schocd;  and 
Mr.  Marvin  had  him  taught  -to  read  French,  that  he 
might  not  forget  the  use  of>hi6  native  language. 

Another  year  passed  quietly  away.  Theodore 
was  quite  domesticated.  The  remembrance  of  his 
former  friends  had  passed  away,  as  a  waking  dream, 
the  idea  of  which  scarce  remained.  His  new  pror 
tectors  grew  every  day  still  more  attached  to  him; 
and,  had  it  not  been  for  the  steady  discipline  of  Mr. 
Marvin,  aunt  Martha  would  have  made  of  him  a  spoil- 
ed child. 

The  good  maiden  was  herself  perfectly  happy,  as 
f;ir  aS'is  consistent  with  our  imperfect  state  of  being. 
Her  love  for  her  brother  was  such,  as  is  seldom  found 
between  brothers  and  sisters.  It  engrossed  her  af- 
fections, and  left  no  void  in  her  heart.  Her  house- 
ho?' I  affairs,  her  bible,  and  Theodore  filled  up  the  te- 
dium of  time ;  and,  to  sit  in  the  e\'enine,  and  hear  E- 
phraim  discourse  on  men  and  things,  describe  liviin; 

2 


14 


^ 


manners  and  locnl  customs,  was,  to  her,  a  source  of 
the  highcHt  satisfuction,  the  only  relaxation,  that  she; 
sought  a  tier,  or  desired. 

Ephraim  had  hitherto  been  happy.  His  business  oc- 
cupied the  most  of  his  time.  He  was  ambitious,  and 
fond  of  study.  The  former  stimulated  his  industry, 
%vhich  wai,  to  crown  him  with  wealth,  the  ladder  to 
importance;  the  latter  enlivened  his  leisure  hours; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  gave  him  consequence  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world.  But  he  now  considered  himself  a 
rising  man,  and  he  had  laboured  to  acquire  accom- 
plishments, a  commodity  not  to  be  kept  closely 
nhut  up,  or  only  displayed  to  dazzle  an  old  maiden 
sister.  She,  to  be  sure,  was  very  worthy;  l)ut  still, 
the  evenings  began  to  grow  dull,  when  there  was  no 
auditor  but  sister  Martha.  Our  friend  Ephraim  th^ 
commenced  beau,  iftid  the  evenings ,  which  had  been 
exclusively  devoted  to  sister  Martha,  were  ncfw  more 
frequently  spent  in  the  society  of  a  circle  of  quite 
fashionable  ladies,  to  whom  he  was  introduced  by 
gome  young  lawyers  and  merchants,  with  whom  he 
had  contracted  acquaintance- 
Miss  Marvin  bore  this  very  patiently.  It  argued 
an  increase  of  consequence  in  her  brother ;  and  their 
fates  were  so  closely  blended,  that  his  importance 
was  necessarily  renected  upon  her.  She  applied 
herself  more  closely  to  reading  her  bible;  still  knit- 
ted his  stockings,  with  unwearied  perseverance ;  and 
listened,  with  encreased  delight,  to  his  rehearsal  of 
the  scenes  in  which  he  was  then  a  participator;  when 
disengaged  from  other  j)ursuits,  he  occasionally  spent 
an  hour  with  her. 

But  Ephraim  Marvin  began  to  discover,  "that 
man  was  not  made  to  be  alone,"  and  to  tliink  of  an 
helpmate.  Sister  Martha  was  no  obstniction.  There 
was  surely  room  in  the  house  for  three.  His  heart 
fluttered  for  some  time,  between  several  fashionabie 


15 


i>elles;  but  was  at  length  fixed,  by  a  pleasing  exteri- 
or, lively  deportment,  fashionable  accomplishmcntfi, 
tmd  twenty  thousand  dollars,  ready  cash.  What 
in:in  in  the  Union,  could  wish  for  more? 

Emily  Chace  was  ward  to  Mr.  Van  Ren^ellaer, 
formerly  Consul  to  a  foreign  Power,  and  was  by  Mrs. 
Van  Rensellacr  introduced  into  the  first  circles, 
fler  father,  a  native  of  England,  had  arrived  in  New- 
York,  in  very  moderate  circumstances,  where  he  es- 
tablished a  livery  stable,  and  in  a  few  years,  realized 
between  twenty  and  thirty  thousand  dollars,  liis 
wife  did  not  long  survive  their  union.  The  pride 
emd  vanity  of  Mr.  Chace  was  now  entirely  concen- 
trated in  his  daughter.  At  five  years  old,  little  Emi- 
ly was  committed  to  the  most  fashionable  boarding 
school.  At  ten,  she  lost  her  father,  who,  wishing  to 
secure  her  a  respectable  entrance  into  life;  left  her 
to  the  guardianship  of  Mr.  Van  Rcnsallear.  The 
influence  of  wealth  is  all  powerfal.  Mr.  Van  Ren- 
sellacr accepted  the  guardianship,  and  it  wa^  intend- 
ed that  Miss  Chaceshould  be  very  accomplished,  but 
in  this,  it  was  necessary  to  contend  with  nature ;  and 
she  acquired  but  a  very  superficial  acquaintance 
with  any  thing  attempted  to  be  taught  her.  By  means 
of  the  best  instruction,  and  much  forced  application, 
for  study  of  every  kind  was  her  aversion.  Emily 
acquirea,  however,  some  polite  accomplishments ; 
could  sing  several  fashionable  songs,  and  accompan- 
ied them  withr tolerable  execution  on  the  Piano ;  but 
in  needlework)  she  was  a  gredt  proficient. 

He|r  education  fihished.  Miss  Chace  went  to  reside 
ut  her  guardian's,  and  was  introduced  into  genteel 
society ;  but  year  after  year  passed  away,  and  Emily 
Chace  remained  unmarried.  She  had  early,  at  her 
father's,  been  taught  to  consider  hersetf  of  great,  im- 
portance; a  lesson  she  did  not  afteiii^ardfi  easily  for- 
get.    She  had  formed  a  resolution  fia  acco'jt  of  r)o 


16 


man  not  possessed  of  a  large  fortune,  and  insinuating* 
manners.  Sucli  an  one  did  not  readily  olfer,  and,  at> 
the  age  of  twenty-eight,  Emily  retained  the  name  of 
Chace.  Of  late  years  she  had  declined  in  her  pre 
tensions;  but  the  perfections  of  her  successive  suit- 
ors had  declined  in  the  same  ratio* 

Old  maids  wie re  Emily's  aversion,  and  she  was 
resolved  not  to  continue  a  member  of  the  sisterhood.. 
She  began  to  look  about  in  good  earnest,  when  Mr, 
Marvin  was  introduced  to  her  society.  She  made 
enquiries  concerning  him,  and  wa»  informed,  that  his 
fortune  was  at  least  equivalent  to  her  ov/n,  and  that 
he  was  a  rising  man.  "This  will  do,"  said  she,  "I 
will  set  my  cap  for  him."  Her  figure  was  small  and 
slendef,  and  her  complexion  fair,  which  made  her 
appear  several  years  younger  than  she  really  was.. 
She  dressed  with  particular  care,  played  her  best 
tunes,  sang  her  best  songs,  and^  in  short,  so  captivat- 
ed our  friend  Marvin,  that  his  constant  theme  to  sis- 
ter Martha,  was  the  accomplished  Emily,  the  beau- 
tiful Miss  Chace.  She,  good  soul,  was  impatient  to  see- 
this  paragon  of  perfection.  She  was  rather  pleased, 
than  dismayed  at  the  thoughts  of  her  brother's  mar- 
rying; for  she,  too,  thought  the  house  large  enough 
for  tliree;  and  set  about  arranging  it  in  the  best  pos- 
hible  manner  for  the  reception  of  the  bride. 

The  marriage  was  celebrated  in  the  country,  at  an 
acquainiance  of  Emily's.  Sister  Martha  was  not 
present;  butj  in  a  few  days^  the  bride  and  bride- 
gropm  arrived  in  a  hakney  coach,  at  their  house  in 
the  Bowery.  Miss  Marvin  flew  to  receive  them. 
The  new  sisters  regarded  each  other,  w^ith  very  scru- 
tinizing attention.  The  en?brace  was  very  cordial, 
on  the  side  of  Martha,  but  very  ceremonious  on  that 
of  the  new  Mrs.  Marvin. 

A  few  weeks  glided  on,  and  sister  Martha  still  con- 
tmued  to  manage  the  house^-  Mrs.  Marvin  regard- 
ed the  proceedings  rather  scornfully,  but  declined 


17 


interfering.  She  forbore  visiting  any,  but  two  or 
three  of  her  most  familiar  acquaintance ;  never  deign- 
ed to  invite  Martha  to  accompany  her,  and  refused 
to  receive  any  other  visitors. 

Miss  Marvin  bore  all  patiently,  still  conducted  the 
affairs  of  the  house  with  great  prudence,  and  still  de- 
rived all  her  pleasure  from  her  brother's  society : 
new  cause  of  umbrage  to  the  lady,  who  began  to  grow 
jealous  of  the  sister's  influence. 

Mr.  Marvin  finding  his  wife  one  day  in  a  very  med-' 
itative  mood,  told  her,  affectionately,  that  he  feared 
she  was  losing  her  health  and  spirits,  by  too,  close 
confinement;  and  desired  to  know,  why  she  did  not 
admit  the  visits  of  her  former  acquaintance  ?  So  great 
a  seclusion,  he  addefd,  was  too  sudden  a  change  for 
one  of  her  former  lively  habits. 

"You  do  well  to  make  the  ejiqtiiry,"  she  replied; 
"you,  who  have  so  greatly  deceived  me.  I  was  giv- 
en to  understand,  thatyou  lived  in  a  genteel  manner, 
and  yet  I  find  nothing  in  the  house  fit  to  receive  any 
one.  I  am  ashamed  to  see  my  friends  here;  but 
must  have  the  whole  furniture  cnanged.  1  brought 
you  a  fortune,  and  surely  I  have  a  right  to  have  my 
own  house  arranged  as  I  please.."  The  husband, 
accustomed  to  implicit  deference  in  his  sister,  walk- 
ed silently  away,  "chewing  the  cud  of  swe^t  and  bit- 
ter fancy.  ^ 

The  house  was  indeed  soon  entirely  new  model- 
led; and  our  friend  begii|l  to  fear,  that  his  increase 
of  money  might  not  prov4e  a  real  increase  of  fortune. 

The  bride  now  conceived  a  roote  J  aversion  to  the 
quiet  demeaner  of  sister  Martha.  She  engaged  a 
woman,  who  took  all  thfe  management  oat  of  Miss 
Marvins  provident  hailds.  This  was  rather  hard  to 
bo  borne,  she  who  had  considered  herself  at  hon^ej 
for  so  many  years,  was  now  merely  a  boarder  in  the 
house,  subject  to  the  caprice  of  its  mistress ;    and 


y  '. 


la 


» 


y 

was  rarely  invited  to  join  the  company.  This  sister 
Martha  patiently  subnnitted  to,  for  her  brother's  sake ; 
and  smothered  her  grief,  tliat  she  might  not  increase 
his  unhappiness ;  for  she  perceived  that  Ephraim  be- 
gan to  be  very  uncomfortable. 

The  husband  now  found,  that  good  temper  in  a 
wife,  was  as  necessary,  as  exterior  or  accomplish- 
ments; but  the  reflection  was  made  too  late:  and 
when  the  lady  gave  way  to  her  ungovernable  fits  of 
passion,  he  could  discover  ho  other  resource,  than 
io  walk  quietly  away,  and  endeavour  to  sooth  the 
rising  irritation  of  his  mind. 

Theodore  was  at  first  a  favorite;  but  Mr.  Marvin 
soon  discovered,  that  his  lady's  capricious  fits,  alter- 
nately of  indulgence,  and  then  of  passionate  severi- 
ty, would  spoil  the  temper  of  the  child,  which 
he  had  watched  over,  with  such  sedulous  care.  He, 
therefore,  sent  him  to  board  with  a  clei^man  in 
Connecticut,  who  took  a  limited  number  of  pupils. 

Their  house,  formerly  the  abode  of  quiet,  placid 
happiness,  was  now  changed  to  a  scene  of  gloomy 
discontent,  and  continual  vexation. 

"Ah !"  thought  the  disappointed  Martha,  as  she 
sat  in  her  neat  little  bed-chamber,  her  hands  employ- 
ed in  knitting,  but  her  mind  ruminating  on  unpleas- 
ant reality,  "can  this  be  the  handsome,  the  all-ac- 
complished Emily,  on  whom  my  brother  lavished  his 
praise,  until  it  kindled  into  enthusiasm  ?  I  can  see  no 
resemblance  in  the  portrait  he  so  often  drew." 

But  new  fears,  new  anxieties,  were  again  awaken- 
ed in  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Marvin.  To  his  other  ties, 
was  added  the  prospect  of  one  still  tenderer,  still 
more  endearing.;  and  the  pleasing  emotion,  awak- 
ened in  his  mind,  by  the  expectation  of  being  a  fa- 
ther, expanded  his  heart  and  made  liim  overlook  or 
extenuate  the  foibles  of  his  wife.  But  these  soon 
grew  intolerable,  and  comfort  was  entirely  estranged 


•^  ^ 


Id 


from  the  house.  Sister  Martha  knew  not  what  to  do*- 
The  pleasing  hope  of  the  expected  heii,  would  have 
made  her  cheerfully  bear  the  capiiciousness  of  her 
new  sister,  for  whom  she  would  still  have  endeavor- 
ed to  feel  affection,  had  the  latter  permitted  her. 
But  her  aversion  daily  grew  more  inveterate^  and 
Mrs.  Marvin  at  length  peremptorily  declared  to  her 
husband,  "that  she  would  no  longer  reside  in  the 
same  house  with  Miss  Marvin.''  He  expostulated, 
but  she  abruptly  left  the  room,  saying,  "that  he  must 
decide  between  his  wife  and  liis  sister;  for  one  of 
the  two  should  leave  the  house  that  day." 

Never  was  man  more  perplexed.     Sister  Martha^ 
to  whom  he  owed  so  much!  could  he,  as  it  were, 
turn  her  out  of  doors  ?  What  would  she  think  ?  What 
would  their  relations  think?  It  was  Impossible!  but, 

then,  his  wife !  in  her  critical  situation,  with  her 

violent  passions. — There  was  no  knowing  to  what 
extremity  these  might  lead  her.  The  most  probable 
result  would  be  the  destruction  of  his  hopes !  He 
was  accustomed,  in  every  exigency,  to  have  recourse 
to  the  calm  deliberation  of  his  siM»r;  and  now  walk- 
ed up  to  her  Httle  chamber.  Rut,  how  could  he 
consult  her  on  the  present  occasion,  when  she  was, 
herself,  a  party  concerned?  She  percejged  his  anx- 
iety, and  affectionately  enquired  the  cause.  'Hesi- 
tatingly he  informed  her  of  this  new  instance  of  fem- 
ily's  perversity.  This  was  the  first  time,  that  words 
had  passed  between  them,  in  reprehension  of  their 
new  connexion.  The  agitation  of  Martha  was  ex- 
treme; but  she  summoned  all  her  resolution  to 
her  aid,  and  concealed  t^|||plession  of  Her  feelings. 
Then  looking  up,  with  cSIrless  eye,  "  My  brother,'* 
said  she,  *  your  happiness  has  always  been  the  prin- 
cipal object  of  my  solicitude;  and  I  am  not  only^  wil- 
ling, but  desirous  of  promoting  it,  in  whatever  man- 
ner  may  be  most  conducive  to  that  effect." 


20 


It 


i   f 


"  Martha,"  said  lie,  with  strong  feeling, "  you  have 
always  been  to  me,  a  friend  indeed." 

"And  I  will  continue  to  prove  myself  such.     I 
*   must  leave  the  house." 

"Is  it  come  to  this,  my  sister?  No;,  you  must  re- 
main." 

"  The  life  of  your  expected  child,  must  not  be  sa- 
crificed to  the  spirit  of  altercation,  and  in  the  critical 
situation  of  your  wife,  the  violent  passion,  into  which 
contradiction  would  throw  her,  might  prove  fatal." 

"My  sister,"  said  Marvin,  "to  what  a  different 
character  must  I  si^critice  you!"  and  he  abruptly 
left  the  room* 

The  forced  resolution  of  sister  Martha  gave  way 
at  his  departure.  Whither  was  she  to  wander  ?  How 
leave  a  home,  she  had  so  long  considered  her  own, 
and  which  was  endeared  to  her  by  so  much  content 
and  happiness  ?  And  what  compensation,  what  sub- 
stitute would  she  find  for  the  society  of  her  brother? 
He,  who  was^aliin  all  to  her. 

"His  happiness,"  cried  she,  "I  will  promote  the 
happiness  or  my  brotlier."  She  wiped  her  eyes,  took 
her  shawl  and  bonnet,  and  sallied  out. 

Miss  Marvin  had  held  little  society  with  her 
neighbours.  She  had  no  familiar  friend  or  acquain- 
tance in  the  city.  Her  brother  had  been  her  sole 
cpnfident.  Her  rich  neighbours  knew  little  of  her ; 
but  to  the  poor,  she  had  been  uniformly  kind,  and 
they  all  reverenced  and  respected  her:  for,  though 
extremely  affable,  she  was  ever  of  opinion  with  the 
old  adage,  "that  too  much  familiarity  breeds  con- 
tempt." She  now  directed  her  steps  to  the  house 
of  a  carman,  whose  wife  was  a  very  decent  woman, 
for  one  in  their  station  of  life.  To  these  people  Miss 
Marvin  had  once  been  of  material  service ;  and  she 
had  since  procured  employment  for  the  husband. 
She  was  received  with  great  courtesy ;  but  the  good 


'2i 


-.vonian  could  not  contain  her  astonishment,  wherf 
Miss  MaiVin  enquired,  if  she  could  furnish  her  hoard  ? 

"Surely,  Miss,  you  won't  leave  your  brother's^ 
house,  which  was  all  the  same  as  yourn?" 

"My  brother,  Mrs,  Bleeker,  is  now  married,  and 
has  a  wife  to  superintend  his  house.  I  am  fond  of 
retirement,  and  will  prefer  your  quiet  lodgings,  to 
the  bustle  and  gaiety  of  Mrs.  Marvin's." 

"Indeed,"  said  Mt^,  Bleeker,  "I  guess  how  some 
persons  can  forget,  for  fine  folks,  and  fine  feathers, 
them  who  have,  years  and  years,  served  thorn,  and 
even  their  own  flesh  and  blood." 

"No  reflections,  Mrs.  Bleeker.     I  only  desire  to* 
know  if  you  can  furnish  me  with  board  and  a  bed- 
chamber? I  care  not  how  small  it  be,  so  that  I  can* 
hare  it  to  myself.'^ 

"  There  is  ou'r  spare  bed-room.  Miss ;  but  the  fur-' 
iiiture  is  so  poorly,  or  else  I  should  have  liked  it  much 
to  board  M\&»  Marvin,  in  our  house." 

"I  have  my  own  bed-room  furniture,  Mr.  Bleck-- 
i*r;  and,  if  you  can  prepare  the  room,  I  shall  return 
to  niglit."     To  this  arrangement,  her  new  landlady 
assented. 

Miss  Marvin  returned  to  her  brother's^  for  the  last 
time.  Tea  was  ready:  bat  Mis.  Marvin,  without 
deigning  to  speak,  left  the  brother  aud  sister,  to  par- 
take of  it  together,  and  joined  Peggy  in  the  kitch- 
en, where  she  silently  drank  her  tea.  Mr.  and  Miss 
Marvin  c  arcely  tasted  the  refreshment.  Their 
meal  was  hkewise  a  silent  one.  Martha  went  to  her 
chamber,  and  |>acked  up  her  things.  Slie  then  re- 
sumed her  bonnet,  and  at  the  door  met  Mr,  Marvin. 

"Adieu,  brother,"  said  she,  "1  have  taken  board 
at  Mrs.  Bieeker's."  lie  looked  up  with  a  glance  of 
anguish,  turned  from  her,  aiid  hastened  to  liis  room.- 

The  silent  hour  ottwiligiit  found  Miss  Marvin  sea- 
ted in  her  forlorn  little  apartment,  which  looked  into* 


stM\ 


€ 


w 


22 


a  small  back  yard.  Nov/  was  the  moment  of  anguish  r 
She  had  not  lived  in  elegance ;  but  she  had  always 
enjoyed  comfort.  Here  every  thing  bore  the  im- 
pression of  necessity.  A  feeling  of  forlornness  per- 
vaded her  mind ;  she  felt  that,  in  parting  with  her 
brother^  she  had  parted  with  her  better  part.  He 
was  the  only  persory,  that  for  many  years  had  sympa- 
1  biased  with  her,  the  only  person,  who  understood 
her  feelings.  They,  who  had  lived  so  long  in  sweet 
communion ;  who  had  enjoyed  so  many  happy  hours 
together,  who  had,  for  so  many  years,  been  all  in  all 
to  each  other;  who  could  alone  appreciate  each  oth- 
ers mutual  worth.  They  were  now  severed  by  an 
acquaintance  of  yesterday,  by  one,  whose  pursuits, 
enjoymehts  and  ideas,  were  so  totally  different  from 
either  brother's  or  sister^ ;  by  one,  whose  frantic  ex- 
cess of  temper,  and  capricious  folly  would  not  only 
render  her  unhappy,  but  embitter  the  future  life  of 
Jier  darling  brother.  "And  Thcouoie,  thct  engaging 
child,  he  too,  is  banished,  through  your  tolly,  cruel 
Emily.  Dear  boy,  were  you  here,  your  endearing 
little  caresses  might  restore  a  ray  of  cheerfulness  to 
your  unhappy  auut  Martha!  But,  r.o;  she  must  like- 
wise be  denied  your  company.  Yes,  1  must  remain 
completely  forlorn,  completely  wretched."  In  a 
similar  train  of  reflections,  did  Miss  Marvin  pass  the 
<irst  night  of  her  banishment.  She  was  an  early  ris- 
er; and,  at  her  usual  hour,  she  mechanically  rose, 
and  dressed  herself.  A  shabby  little  girl  Came  to  call 
her  to  breakfast.  She  followed  the  child,  to  an  un- 
comfortable cellar  kitchen.  A  pine  table  was  set 
out,  covered  with  a  coarse  cloth,  some  cracked  cups 
and  saucers,of  common  crockery  jwith  pewter  spoons. 
Into  these  the  prudent  dame  poUred,  from  an  old  tea- 
pot, what  appeared  to  be  warm  water;  but,  which 
she  dignified  with  the  name  of  tea.  Brown  bread, 
«ilt  butter,  and  cold  salted  pork,  were  the  more  sub- 


23 


■staiitial  parts  of  the  repast.  Martha  could  not  for- 
bear contrasting  this  with  the  excellent  coffee,  good 
breakfast,  and  comfortable  parlour  at  her  brother's. 
She  suppressed  a  sigh,  bade  her  host  and  hostess 
"good  morning,"  and  endeavoured  to  do  honour  to 
the  frugal  cheer. 

The  honest  carman  pressed  her  to  eat,  and  lamen- 
ted her  want  of  appetite. 

"Miss,"  said  the  woman,  "finds  our  fare  rather 
coarse.  But  a  good  i^eHsh  and  high  flavoured  coffee, 
can't  be  got  for  twelve  shillings  a  week,  which  is  all 
I  asks  her.  She  knows  house-keeping,  and  must 
Ihink  how  as  a  dollar  and  a  half  don't  go  a  great 
ways." 

Martha  retired  to  her  roO(m.  "  I  do  not  like  the 
vulgarity  of  that  woman,"  thought  she,  "but  as  she 
iruly  observes,  I  am  charged  at  a  low  rate,  and  I  can- 
jiot  attbrd  more  expensive  lodgings ;  for  I  must  en- 
deavour to  make  my  deposit  with  my  brother  go  as 
far  as  possible.  He  has  now  a  family  of  his.  own. 
His  wife  brought  him  a  fortune,  and  must  be  suppor- 
ted in  style ;  and  I  do  not  wish  to  be  any  furthercharge 
to  him." 

She  was  interrupted  in  these  reflections,  by  her 
landlady's  calling  her.  A  cart  had  stopped  at  the 
door,  in  which  Mrs.  Marvin  had  sent  all  that  belong- 
ed to  her  sister-in-law. 

Poor  Martha  sighed,  as  she  saw  her  things  care- 
lessly stowed  in  the  vehicle;  but  assisted  to  convey 
them  to  her  little  chamber ;  and,  for  the  remainder  of 
the  day,  her  mind  was  rather  dissipated,  in  arranging 
things  to  her  satisfaction.  In  the  afternoon  her  bro- 
ther  called,  but  the  observant  curiosity  of  the  land- 
lady prevented  much  communication.  He  soon  de- 
parted, and  she  again  felt  herself  in  absolute  sohtude. 

The  next  day,  she  called  at  his  shop,  in  Writer- 
street.     Here  the  clerks  were  present,  which  occa- 


^■» 


24 


♦•ioned  fi  restraint  on  lier  feelings.  She  was  at  a  Iofc8 
i'or  words.  At  length,  "brother,"  said  she,  "i  mubt 
draw  upon  }ou,  to  pay  nay  board,  wliich  you  will 
<-harge  to  my  account." 

"Martha,"  he  replied,  "draw  upon  me,  whenever 
you  please,  and  to  any  amount.  While  I  live,  you 
>shall  never  want;  and  1  have  a  thousand  dollars  of 
your  money  in  my  hands;  for  your  original  deposit 
has  accumulated  to  that  sum." 

Sister  Martha  returned  to  her  lodgings,  and  seldom 
was  she  now  seen  in  the  street.  Her  bible  was  her 
only  companion.  Probably  in  that,  she  found  a  com- 
forter ?  No,  for  her  religion  had  assumed  the  com- 
plexion of  her  mind.  It  was  dark  and  gloomy.  She 
^studied)  the  prophecies,  and  endeavoured  to  eluci- 
date their  obscurity,  until  her  mind  was  tinctured 
with  thoir  intricacy.  She  had  once  been  attached 
lo  general  reading;  but  tliis  she  now  entirely  aban- 
/loned,  and  the  more  obscure  parts  of  the  sacred  wri- 
jings,  alone  occupied  her  attention.  ,  Her  imagina- 
tion became  visionary  and  unsettled,  and  in  endcav- 
fouring  to  apply  the  denunciations  contained  in  the 
Revelations,  and  ancient  Prophets,  to  present  events 
t.nd  living  characters,  she  grew  listless  and  inditier- 
4Mit  to  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life. 

Mr.  Marvin  sometimes  called  to  see  his  sister,  but 
})e  was  loth  to  discover  his  feelings  before  strangers; 
^md  lon^  intervals  continued  to  elapse  between  Jus 
visits. 


■^ 


25 
CHAPTER  III. 


J^^ 


Ah,  happy  hills!  ab,  pleating  shade! 

Ah.  fielc's  belov'd  in  vain  ! 

Where  once  my  careless  childhood  stray  *d, 

A  stranger  yet  lo  pain ! 

I  reel  the  gales,  that  Trom  ye  blow, 

A  momentary  bliss  bestow, 

As  waving  fresh  their  gladsome  wing ; 

My  weary  soul  they  seem  to  soothe. 

And,  redolent  ofjoy  and  youth. 

To  breathe  a  second  spring.  .  Gbat. 

THE  autumn  passed  over.  The  winter  advan- 
ced, and  all  remained  in  much  the  same  sAmation« 
At  length,  in  April,  happiness  again  dawned  on  E- 
phraim  Marvin;  for  his  wife  then  presented  him 
with  a  daughter*  His  heart  opened  to  nature,  as  he 
took  the  helpless  innocent  in  his  arms,  and  blessed 
it,  with  the  first  dawning  of  parental  feeling.  His 
heart  expanded  with  love,  and  he  embraced  the 
mother  with  deeper  affection,  than  when  he^^first 
look  her  to  his  arms  as  his  bride.  Amity  seekied 
restored  between  them,  and  some  appearance  of  do- 
mestic affection.  Was  sister  Martha  included  in 
this  armistice  ?  No ;  the  gloomy  hatred  of  her  sister- 
in-law  glowed  more  deeply  than  ever;  nor  could 
she  hear,  with  calmness,  the  name  of  Miss  Marvin. 

The  little  Evelina  increased  in  size,  and  infantHife 
beauty.  The  father,  one  day,  accompanied  the  girl, 
who  was  taking  out  the  child,  and  bade  her  follow 
bim.  He  presented  the  infant  to  aunt  Martha.  She 
pressed  it  to  her  bospm.  A  tear  fell  on  the  infantile 
face.  She  kissed  it  off'.  "Lovely  babe,"  said  she, 
"your  birth  makes  amends  for  all.  Emily,  1  freely 
forgive  all  you  have  made  me  suffer." 

Three  years  elapsed.  The  brother  continued  to 
rise  in  the  world ;  but  sister  Martha  continued  her 
Hoiitary  pursuits;  and,  to  gaze  at  her  brother,  as  h^. 

3 


•^ 


26 


■* , 


walked  by,  was  the  only  emotion  of  joy  she  expcri* 
CQced.  Still  she  sometimes  saw  the  child,  and  new 
comfort  dawned  on  her;  for  the  httW  Evelina  began 
to  distinguish  an  aunt,  who  almost  idolized  her;  and 
oilen,  with  the  persevering  decisiveness  she  already 
displayed,  insisted  on  being  taken  to  see  aunt  JVIar» 
tha.  Soon,  the  little  creature  found  the  way  there 
alone ;  and,  day  after  day,  would  she  spend  hours 
with  her  aunt;  while  her  mother  was  content  to 
purchase  quietness,  by  permitting  Evelina  to  take 
her  own  way. 

The  heart  of  aunt  Martha  expanded  beneath  the 
inild  influence  of  this  amiable  child ;  and  her  gloomy 
iits  of  despondency  fleeted  away,  98  shadows  befove 
the  sun.  By  degrees  she  forsook  her  study  .of  the 
prophet^,  for  the  more  enlivening  occupation  of  con^ 
versing  with  her  prattling  niece,  knitting  her  stock- 
ings, andnlittens;  while  she  .again  became  qui'c  a 
rational  being. 

Ephraim  Marvin  doted  on  this  beloved  daughter. 
His  life  seemed  bound  up  in  hers ;  but  he  had  too 
frequently  witnessed  the  effects  of  capxicious  inrlulr 
gence,  not  to  fear  its  influence  on  the  disposition  of 
this  darling  of  his  affections.  He,  therefore,  endea- 
voured, and  in  reality  governed  her,  with  extraordi- 
nary equaniniity.  He  curbed  the  ijnperious  temper 
that  already  began  to  discover  itself,  and  fostered  the 
generous,  open  qualities,  tliat  giowed  in  her  young 
bosom;  and  the  little  girl  soon  demonstrated  the  ef- 
fects of  education.  She  grew  ^  docile,  amiable  child ; 
and  her  ti^rbulence  gave  way  beneath  her  father's 
influence.  Evelina  loved  him  with  ardent,  engros- 
sing affection,  but  feared  to  incur  his  displeasure, 
and  a  glance  from  her  father's  eye  was  sufficient,  at 
any  time,  to  check  the  latent  appearance  of  way- 
wardness.      • 

Theodore  still  continued  at  the  Connectici^tboard- 


""T. 


27 


ing  school,  increasing  in  statue  and  learning.  Mr. 
Marvin,  in  the  peculiar  situation  of  hisfamily,  delay- 
ed sending  for  hirn,  from  vacation  to  vacation.  Time  . 
passed  away,  and  the  lad  had  attained  his  thirteenth 
year:  the  amiable  youth  thought  oden  with  the  live- 
liest gratitude  pn  his  protectors;  and  still  welcomed 
the  approach  of  each  vacation,  that  he  might  visit 
them ;  hut  that  hope,  was,  unaccountably  to  him, 
delayed  from  time  to  time;  and  the  poor  boy  knew 
not  what  to  imagine,  for  he  dreaded  to  think  himself 
forgotten. 

It  was  a  very  hot  day  in  July,  a  ship  was  to  be 
launched.  Mrs.  Marvin  desired  her  husband  to  en- 
gage a  carriage,  and  accompany  her  to  view  thtt 
launch.  He  pleaded  unavoidable  business.  '^  You 
will  not  jgo  with  me?  Then  I  shall  go  alone,  and  on 
foot,"  said  the  lady.  , 

"You  had  better  not,  my  dear;  for  the  weather  iB 
excessively  hot." 

"I  am  determined  on  going,"  said  Mrs.  Marvin, 

3 [id  ui^less  you  engage  a  carriage,  and  accompany 
,  I  shall  certainly  go  oh  foot." 
*  Accustomed  to  his  wife's  unyielding  temper,  Mar- 
vin thought  no  more  of  the  matter,  and  went  out  to 
fulfil  his  engagements.  Thp  lady  dressed  herself; 
and,  disregarding  the  extreme  sultriness  of  the  weath- 
er, called  on  an  acquaintance,  who  lived  near  the 
launch. 

She  returned  in  the  afternoon,  overpowered  with 
heat,  fatigue  and  thurst;  and,  after  taking  the  pre- 
caution of  mixing  molasses  and  vinegar  with  water, 
drank  freely ;  but  the  water  was  extremely  cold.  It 
had  just  been  drawn  Troni  the  pump,  and  Mrs.  Mar- 
vin soon  felt  its  chilling  eifects.  Cold  shivering  fits 
shook  her  frame;  and  with  i...  assistance  of  the  maid, 
"<he  lay  down  on  her  bed. 

On  Mr.  Marvin's  return,  he  found  his  wife  in  a  vi- 


> 


28 


.ft 


lir-^ 


olent  fever.  Medical  advice  was  immediately  call- 
ed in;  but  in  vain.  8ho  had,  the  preceding  Sunday 
attended  divine  service,  in  perfect  health;  but,  be- 
fore the  return  of  the  following  Sabbath,  she  silently 
reposed  in  the  church-yard. ' 

A  melancholy  stupor  came  over  the  husband.  He 
had  not  lived  very  happily  with  the  deceased ;  still, 

the  eternal  parting  was  awful !  Death  was  not 

divested  of  its  terrors.  The  partner  of  his  fate ;  the 
being  so  nearly  connected  with  him,  was  gone,  eter» 
Daily  gone.  Suddenly  called  away;  No  time  allow- 
ed for  preparation.—' Sh«  had  gone  to  meet  her 

Judge,  in  her  unprepared  state. But  God  is 

merciful.  His  decrees  are  inscrutable.  Let  not 
man  judge,  that  he  be  not  judged. 

At  the  fii*st  appearance  of  her  mother's  alarming 
illness,  the  little  Evelina  had  been  seijit  to  a  much 
esteemed  boarding  school,  about  a  mile  from  the  ci- 
ty, and  there  her  father  suffered  her  to  remain,  for 
tlie  present. 

But  new  cares  and  anxieties  soon  engrossed  all  hia 
attention.  He  had  been  lately  engaged  in  some 
certain  speculations.  These  failed ;  and,  notwil 
stancin^  all  his  vigilance^  his  name  was  shortly  after 
•n  tie  list  of  bankrupts.  This  new  shock  nearly  o- 
vefpowered  his  resolution.  He  was  walking  on  a 
wharf,  that  he  often  frequented,  in  the  course  of  his 
business,  sadly  ruminating  on  his  change  of  prospects; 
when  he  understood  from  the  conversation  of  the 
master  of  a  vessel,  with  a  passenger,  that  a  sloop  for 
New-Haven  would  sail  the  next  day.  This  attract- 
ed Ephraina's  attention.  "1  have  long  wished  to 
revisit  my  native  country,"  thought  he,  "but  have 
hitherto  wanted  leisure  and  opportunity.  At  pres- 
ent nothing  detains  me  in  New- York,  I  will  then  re- 
visit my  early  home,  and  will  afterwards  determine 
on  what  remains  for  we  to  do,"     Prepargitioas  wer«j 


^ 


39 


soon  made,  and  on  tlie  following  day,  Mr.  Marvin 
embarked  for  Connecticut. 

The  vessel  glided  leisurely  down  the  Sound,  Mar- 
vin se'ited  himself  on  the  deck.  Fie  gazed  with  a 
vacant  eye,  on  tlie  magnificent  city,  as  it  receded 
from  his  view.  The  innumerable  shiips,  passing  and 
repassing,  from  every  quarter,  could  not  attract  hig 
attention.  The  beautiful  and  capacious  harbour, 
hid  no  longer  a  charm  for  him.  Brooklin  heights 
had  disappeared,  and  still  he  remained  in  the  same 
place.  They  passed  through  Hurl-Gate;  but  the 
bustle  of  the  mariners,  and  roar  of  the  contending 
eddies  had  not  power  to  direct  his  attraction.  "  What 
enchanting  scenery!"  exclaimed  a  stranger,  who 
stood  beside  him;  "What  charming  country  seats! 
Elysium  has  surely.been  renovated  in  America,  and 
located  on  each  side  of  this  estuary.  What  can  boast- 
ed Europe  produce,  superior  to  the  banks  of  Long- 
Island  Sound  ?" 

"Their  wonted  beauty  has  »  ed  frmn  me,"  said 
Marvin,  rising,  and  descending  to  the  cabin,  "  I  no 
'  Ioniser  see  a  charm  in  any  thing." 
pT*  The  following  day,  he  was  anded  afNew- Haven, 
He  made  no  stay  in  the  tow  i ;  but  took  the  well  re- 
membered road  to  his  native  village.  As  he  proce- 
ded,  it  seemed  as  if  he  y^  e  transported  back  to  the 
time,  when  he  had  le^  us  outhfulhome.  The  same 
houses  remained,  o.  '^e  well  known  road.  His 
identity  was  tran^orted  back,  several  years.  His 
thoughts  sought  the  channel  of  other  times ;  and  he 
proceeded  forward,  musing  and  pensive. 

The  hum  of  merry  voices  attracted  his  attention. 
The  door  of  a  small,  rude,  isolated  dwelling  burst  o- 
pen;  and  forth  issued  a  noisy,  merry  throng.  E- 
phraim  Marvin  paused.  It  was  the  scene  of  his 
quondam  pleasure.  He  had  entered  his  native  vil- 
lage.    This  was  the  very  school  house,  in  which  he 

3* 


Li,-. 


-#-t 


♦  ♦. 


30    . 


f 


■■:•*&■ 


had  so  often  conned  over  his  spelhng  lesson,  impa-, 
tient  to  be  let  onl.  The  very  place,  in  which, 
when  a  few  more  years  had  glided  over  his  head,  he 
liad  drank  so  eagerly  of  learning's  lore,  while  his 
heart  rose  bi^oyant  with  hope ;  and,  after  conquering 
some  difhciilt  pfoblem,  he  had  proudly  raised  his 
head,  and  thought  of  future  distinction  and  success, 
that  undoubtedly  awaited  him,  in  years  yet  to  come. 
He  now  smiled  sadly  at  the  retrospect.  "  My  pretty 
lad,"  said  he  to  a  boy,  who  came  hopping  towards 
him,  "what  is  your  name?"  "Hezekiah  Lord,  sir." 
Ephraim  started.  "  Hezekiah  Lord  was  my  class- 
mate. And  you,  my  fair  haired  boy,  what  are.  you 
called?"  "Nehemiah  Newcobe,  and  here  is  my 
brother  Asa,  and  cousin  Amasa  Boardman." 

"Am  I  again  a  little  boy  myself?"  'said  Ephraim, 
"for  here  are  all  my  school  fellows  assembled,  as 
when  I  formerly  played  ball  on  this  well  remember- 
ed spot." 

The  boys  had,  by  this,  surrounded  him.  "Where 
may  you  be  coming  from  ?"  said  a  httle  black  eyed 
fellow.  v«^ 

"True  old  fashioned  inquisitiveness  is  still,  I  see, 
a  plant  of  the  soil,"  said  Ephraim.     "But,  my  boy,^^ 
are  you  not  David  Holmes  ?" 

"!No,  David  is  my  father's  name.  I'  am  called 
Samuel." 

"You  are?  But  what  has  become  of  young  Sam- 
uel Holmes?  We  were  formerly  great  friends." 

"What,  my  uncle  Sam?  1  guess  how  he  is  not  so 
young  neither.  He  has,  I  calculate,  got  some  grey 
nairs.  Here  are  his  sons,  Joshua,  Moses,  and  Wash- 
ington." 

Marvin  unconsciously  put  his  hand  to  his  head. 
He  was  strikingly  reminded  of  the  flight  of  time;' 
but  the  buzz  of  the  boys  quickly  recalled  him  from 
bis  abstraction.  "And  what  i^  your  school  master's 
name,  my  lads?" 

..  z-  '^    ;■  ■  ■ 


-u 


m 


♦  '* 


"Old  Master  Obadiah  Mason*  Don't  you  know 
old  Master  Misoa?" 

"What,  my  old  Master?  Does  he  still  keep  pos- 
session of  his  school  house,  and  his  rod  ?" 

"He  holds  the  rod  fast  enough,"  said  one  of  the 
urchins,  "as  I  guess  some  of  us  know  very  well*^ 
There  he  sits,  writing  theboy^s  copies.  Will  you  go 
in  and  see  him?" 

"I  think  I  will  step  in,  and  see  Master  Mason;  but 
who  are  you,  my  lad  ?  Your  voice  is  familiar  to  me." 
^'Oh,  I  am  Ephraim  Marvin.  All  the  village 
knows  me ;  and,  see  yonder,  how  far  sister  Patty  has 
got.  I  guess,  if  I  an't  home  soon  too,  to  drive  up 
the  cows,  I  shall  get  a  lecture  from  dad,  and  a  darn 
good  one  too." 

"  Your  name  is  Ephraim  Marvin,"  said  our  trav- 
eller, with  emotion,  "give  me.yourhand,  my  lad." 

"Oh,  shake  hands  and  welcome,"  said  the  boy, 
"  and  I  should  like  very  much  to  know  who  you  are ; 
but  here  comes  Master  Mason." 

The  venerable  figure  of  old  Obadiah  was  now 
seen,  slowly  approaching  the  circle,  attracted  by  the 
unusual  circums|:ance  of  his  scholars  keeping  so  long 
in  a  group,  near  the  school  house,  after  their  dismis« 
sal  from  school.  The  boys  gave  way ;  and  he  saw 
a  stranger,  who  by  his  dress  appeared  a  man  of  some 
importance. 

"  Your  servant  sir,"  said  Master  Mason,  "  I  guess 
that  you  are  coming  from  New-Haven?" 

"  Yotf  apprehend  right,  sir.  I  am  last  from  that 
place." 

"  You  are,  I  guess,  from  your  speech,  an  Ameri- 
pan;  though  I  calculate  you  don't  belong  to  New- 
Haven;  you  come  some  distance,  from  some  large^ 
city,  not  Irom  Boston,  I  guess,  but  may  be  from  New- 
York?" 

,,  "  I  belong  to  the  city  of  New- York." 
"And,  where  may  you  be  travelling  to?  You  will 


32 


% 


# 


hot  n:o  much  farther  to  ni^ht,  I  guess ;  for  the  Sun  is 
far  to  the  west.     !t  will  soon  be  goin^  down." 

"I  am  going  no  further  than  your  village,  Master 
Mason." 

"  You  know  my  nane,  then«  You  have  there  the 
advantage  of  me." 

*■  Do  you  not  remember  Ephrainrt  Marvin?'' 

"Ephraim  Marvin!  What,  my  old  scholar,  that  1 
have  heard  say  was  nOw  so  great  a  man  in  New- York? 
You  are  then  he  ?  Let  me  look  at  you ;  for  my  old 
eyes  are  rather  feeble.  Yes,  you  are  the  same,  tho' 
I  8;uess  I  should  not  have  known  you,  had  you  not 
told  me  your  name.  You  are  welcome,  Ephraim. 
Thrice  welcome  to  Connecticut,"  continued  the  old 
man,  shaking  our  traveller  heartily  by  the  hand.  "  1 
always  foretold  you  would  be  a  great  genius,  if  they 
would  but  resign  you  to  my  tuition,  and,  sure  enough, 
my  calculation  was  just.  They  say,  you  are  an  Al- 
derman of  the  city  of  New- York ;  and  you  were  in- 
deed once  a  scholar  to  old  Obadiah  Mason,  not 
quite  so  old  a  man  then ;  and  as  great  a  personage  as 
you  may  be,  I  have  held  the  rod  over  you,"  said  the 
old  man,  chuckhng,  ^'but  walk  in  the  school  house, 
and  let  us  talk  over  old  times." 

"Another  time,  Master  Mason.  I  must  now  pay 
my  duty  to  my  mother.  I  hope  she  enjoys  good 
health." 

"Oh,  very  good.  The  old  lady  is  very  well.  I 
will  but  finish  my  copies,  and  will  then  step  over  to 
Asa  Marvin's.  You  remember  the  way ;  but  should 
you  have  forgot,  here  are  plenty  of  boys,  who  will 
conduct  you,  and  Asa  Marvin's  "son  ^  as  among  them 
jnst  now.  Ephraim  Marvin,  where  are  you,?  You 
must  conduct  your  uncle." 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  the  boy ;  "  You  are  then  my  un- 
cle from  New- York.  How  very  glad  will  granny  be 
to  see  you,  and  daddy,  and  manrniy  too,  I  guess* 


'«?- 


^  * 


» 


^3 


,4 


Come,  sir,  let  us  make  haste;  but  I  will  not  be  lec- 
tured for  staying,  now  you  are  with  me,  and  I  guess 
little  Asa  will  bring  up  the  cows." 

Led  by  his  nephew,  Mr.  Marvin  proceeded  to- 
wards his  native  farm,  which,  always  busily  engroas- 
ed  by  other  pursuits,  he  had  not  visited,  since  he  had 
first  left  its  peaceful  harbourage,  to  launch  into  the 
busy  bustle  of  the  great  world.  He  had,  since  that 
period,  passed  through  many  differt^nt  scenes ;  but 
still,  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole,  did  the  better 
affections  of  his  heart,  during  many  a  solitary  hour, 
point  to  his  first  quiet,  itnambitious  home ;  and  oflen 
had  he  almost  wished  he  had  not  quitted  the  home- 
stead. And  now,  deprived  of  his  hardly  earned 
wealth,  his  heart  yearned  to  his  native  spot. 

They  came  in  sight  of  the  farm  house.  Near  the 
farm,  some  women  were  milking. 

"Oh,  Asa  has  brought  up  the  cows,"  said/hi» 
young  companion, "  there  is  Mammy ,Molly,  and  Pat- 
ty, milking  them;  but,  come  iftj  Granny  is  in  the 
kitchen." 

An  old  respectable  looking  woman,  with  a  nice 
starched  cap  and  kerchief,  sat  by  the  door  knitting. 
"Granny,  Granny,  here  be  uncl&  Ephraim,  from 
New- York.  Come  in,  uncle ;  I'll  <p  call  daddy.  I 
guess  he  is  in  the  barn  yard." 

"  What  did  that  harum  scarum  boy  say  ?"  cried  the 
old  lady,  A  stranger  stood  before  her.  Her  bosom 
beat  high ;  emotion  shook  her  aged  frame.  "  In  the 
name  of  God,  who  are  you/" 

"Mother,  have  you  forgot  your  long  absent  son?" 

"  My  son!  my  Ephraim!"  and  she  folded  him  ia 
her  weak  embrace.  "  My  God,  I  thank  thee.  Once 
more,  have  I  seen  the  face  of  my  son.  Sit  down, 
Ephraim.  How  is  thy  family  ?  How  is  thy  sister 
Martha?  Why  did  she  not  accompany  thcc?  Does 
^she  no  ignger  care  for  bev  mother  ?" 


.* 


'*  ^.^^ 


34 


■# 


"  Martha  is  Well,  mother;  biit  she  is  iidt  very  fotid'  * 
of  travelling;  slnd  my  journey  here  was  sudden  and" 
unexpected." 

"You  arc  welcome  home,  Ephraim,  thrice  wel- 
come," said  a  hearty  voice;  and  Ephraim  felt  his 
hand  seized,  and  heartily  shaken  by  hid  brother. 

Mrs.  Asa  Marvin  and  her  daughters,  now  came  in 
with  their  milk  pails.  The  inatron  joined  in  the 
congratulations.  Their  son  Elisha,  a  sturdy  lad) 
heartily  shook  the  hand  of  his  city  uncle,  while  the 
daughters  blushed,  smiled,  and  ^iTelcomed  liim. 

Now  Epftraim  laid  aside  his  ceremoneous  conse- 
quence, and  discovered  that  he  could  again  freely 
chat,  and  l^e  happy.  A  plentiful  supper,  of  the  bcist 
the  farm- afforded,  was  soon  prepared,  of  which  he 
partook,  with  the  keen  relish  excited  by  his  pedes- 
trian mode  of  travelling. 

Master  Mason  soon  joined  them,  and  many  of  his 
old  companions  and  acquaintance  also  made  their 
appearance ;  aHu,  when  Ephraim,  after  joining  fam- 
ily worship,  retired  to  the  clean  and  comfortable 
spare  bed,  he  found  that  he  had  passed  the  happiest 
evening,  that  he  had  enjoyed  for  many  years.. 

Our  citizen  arose  early  the  following  morning.' 
He  found  his  bi-other  in  the  farm  yard ;  and  they 
walked  together  over  the  parental  farm.  ^ 

"How  happy  is  the  life  of  a  farmer,"  said  Mr.^, 
Marvin,  "I  will  venture  to  allege,  Asa,  that  you  here 
find  Complete  Itappiness,  and  scarcely  know  the  fce- 
lipg  of  anxiety." 

"As  for  happiness,  brotlier  Ephraim,  I  guess  how 
that  I  am  as  happy  as  my  neighbours.  My  wife  is  as 
good  a  housekeeper,  as  man  need  be  blessed  with. 
The  boys  are  stout  lads,  though  may  be,  they  want 
some  looking  after,  as  you  and  I  did  of  yore,  brother 
Ephraim.  The  gals  are  well  brought  up.  There  is 
Pattj,  can  spin  a  yarn  with  any  one  in  the  country  j 


^ 


35 


and  MolJy,  there  is  a  gal  for  you.  But,  between  ouf- 
selves,  brother,  she  will  not  be  long  on  band.  There 
is  Reuben  Spunker,  the*  Squire's  son,  I'll  wager  you 
a  horse,  they  will  be  one,  before  next  christnoas.  He 
WHS  sparking  here  again  last  night,  did  you  not  notice  ^ 
him,  sitting  in  the  corner,  when  all  the  rest, went  a- 
way  ?  A  fine  match  that.  Reuben  will  get  the  honae- 
stead,  the  finest  farna  in  the  country,  rising  one  hun* 
dred  acres  of  the  best  land  in  Connecticut." 

*'You  are  a  happy  man,  Asa.     I  almost  wish  I 
}iad  continued  a  farmer." 

"  Why,  you  would  tlien  haye  had  the  homestead,  , 
Ephraim,  and  I  would  have  been  in  the  new  coun-«^ 
tries.     Perhaps  a  richer  man ;  for  they  say,  that  folks 
grow  rich  to  the  westward.     But  this  farm  maintains 
me,  and  mine.     Riches  could  #>  no  moi^e." 

They  now  returned  to  breakiast,%<^en  Ephraim 
felated  his  wife's  death ;  for  on  the  preceding  even- 
ing, be  had  so  greatly  enjoyed  their  rustic  welcome, 
and  congratulations,  that  he  had  forborne  to  arrest 
the  display  of  joy,  his  ar  -ival  had  occasioned,  by  the 
melancholy  FCcitaK  He  still  continued  silent  on  the 
desperate  state  of  his  atl'airs;  as  he  felt  inclined  to 
retain  the  consequence,  he  found  he  enjoyed,  among 
hi.^  country  people,  and  desired  npt  to  excite  their 
pity,  or  oommi3eration  on  that  delicate  point. 

Although  Ephraim  had  never  visited  his  father's 
house,  since  he  bad  first  left  it  literally  to  seek  his 
fortune,  still,  he  bad  kept  up  a  correspondence  with 
his  mother,  and  brother,  and  had  sent  theiQ,  and  the 
other  members  of  the  family,  n^iany  httle  presents. 
The  disagreement  between  his  wife  and  sister  Mar- 
tha, had  been  entirely  concealed  from  them.  They 
knew,  indeed,  t^aUhe  had  left  his  house ;  but  thougiit 
that  she  boarded  at  a  friend's  through  choice ;  and, 
as  they  always  thought  sister  Martha  rather  odd, 
this  circumstance  had  not  excited  their  curiosity. 


M: 


•^ 


I  ' 


t'i 


•  ...     30 

Tlic  motlicrliad  ollen  scntpressing  invitations  to hcT 
daughter,  to  revisit  her ;  but  sister  Martha  could  nev- 
er be  prevailed  on  to  return  to  her  native  home. 

The  good  old  lady  shed  tears,  at  hearing  of  her 
daughter-in-law's  fate,  although  she  had  never  seen 
her.  All  the  family  expressed  their  regret,  and 
commiserated  the  little  Evehna,  who  had  so  early 
lost  her  mother.  "But  then  aui)t- Martha  will  take 
good  care  of  her,"  said  Patty,  and  this  suggestion 
consoled  them.  , 

It  was  Saturday.  The  female  part  of  the  family, 
were  very  busily  employed  in  preparing  pumpkin 
pies,  and  other  luxuries,  for  the  Sabbath  dinner, 
which  wasi,  as  usual,  to  be  a  cold  one ;  for  no  work, 
but  of  absolute  necessity,  would  be  performed  on  that 
holy  day.  EphraiijnNliad  been  sauntering  about  the 
farm,  and  confeiln,  twisting  a  twig;  he  found  all  the 
family  assembled  in  the  best  joMn,  and  his  brother 
sitting  by  a  table,  with  tlie  family  bible  before  him. 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  lady,  "tlie  sun  is  now  sink- 
ing in  the  west.  The  Sabbath  is  commencing.  I 
hope,  Ephraim,  the  fine  city  fashions  have  not  made 
you  forget  the  God,  who  made  you,  and  his  holy  day : 
for,  remember,  iny  son,  the  Lord  vill  forget  those, 
who  forget  him." 

"I  see,  moiher,"  said  Ephraim,  "you  stiDkeep  up 
the  old  New-England  custom,  of  beginning  the  Sab.- 
bath  on  Saturday  night." 

"We  erdeavour  to  k^eep  up  the  commandments  of 
God,  my  son,  and  to  follow  the  directions  he  has  giv- 
en us  in  his  holy  bibie.  TJiat  bible  infomis  us, 
'That  the  evening  and  the  xfijprjiing,  (and  not  the 
morning  arti  ^he  evening,)  were  iht  first  day." 

Ephraim  bowed  acquiescence ;  and  his  brother  A- 
sa  opened  the  venerable  book.  Our  citizen  remem- 
bered how  oftei.  be  had  seen  it  opened  by  his  father.. 
A  feeling  of  awe  came  over  his  soul.     He  leaned  his 


«, 


37  *" 

head  pensively  on  his  hands,  and  his  thoii^ts  recuf^* 
red  back,  to  the  days  of  other  times. 

Asa  Marvin  then  read,  inrfpressively,  several  chap- 
ters from  the  holy  book.  A  psalm  followed,  in  which 
the  family  joined,  with  great  propriety ;  for  they  had 
all  learned  toeing  at  the  village  singing  school. 

Asa  Marvin  then  prayed  extempore,  and  this  con- 
cluded the  evening }  for  the  family  retired  early  to 
hod. 

The  next  morning  commenced  with  great  serious- 
ness. After  breakfast,  they  walked  to  the  meeting 
house.  Ephraim  gave  his  arm  to  his  mother,  and 
proceeded  pensively  along.  Again  his  mind  recur- 
red to  former  times.  The  meeting  house  seemed 
just  the  same,  as  when  he  had  last  Icftit,*  He  seat- 
ed himself  in  the  old  family  pew.  He  missed  his  fa- 
ther there ;  but  Asa  occupied  hisplate.  "  He  is  but 
another  link  in  the  same  chain ,"tli6ught  Ephraim. 
One  generation  passeth  away,  and  another  cometh. 
This  is  the  way -with  perishable  man.  A  few  more 
\>ears,  and  we  shall  liave -disappeared ;  but  ther»  oiir 
places  will  be  filled  by  others^  We  shall -scarcely 
be  missed. 

The  sermon  began.  A  stranger  occupied  the  pul- 
pit. None  but  Ephraim  missed  the  venerable  fig- 
ure of  the  former  incumbent.  "His  place,  too," 
thought  Marvin,  "is  occupied  by  another." 

The  goqd  old  lady  was  pleased  to  see  her  cityison 
-so  serious.  ^  ""I  see,  my  son,"  said  she,  as  she  walk- 
ed home,  leaning  on  his  arm,  "  that  you  still  repem- 
bcr  your -education,  and  have  not  forgotten  your 
God,  amidst  the  vanities  of  this  world."i|^ 

A  }v}entiful  eold  dinner  wassoon  spread  on  the  ta- 
ble, of  which  they  heartily  partook;  and  they  then 
attended  afternoon  service.  The  setting  sun  founA 
them  seated4n  the  best  room ;  the  farmer  instruc-^ 
4;ing  iiis  boys  in  their  catechism,  and  #ie  old  lady 

4 


3« 


ll! 


holding  forth  to  the  elder  part  of  the  family,  con- 
cerning the  heinous  falling  away  of  the  present  sin- 
ful times. 

The  sun  had  now  sunk  below  the  western  hori- 
zon. The  children  had  finished  their  catechism, 
and,  bounding  with  the  joy  of  recovered  freedom, 
passed  out  at  the  door. 

The  old  lady  resumed  her  knitting,  but  Continued 
h'er  discourse,  the  elder  part  of  the  family  silently 
listening  to  her. 

"Do  you  knit  on  the  Sabbath  evening,  mother  ?^* 
enquired  Ephraim. 

"  The  Sabbath  is  over,  my  son,  the  sun  has  sunk  in 
tiie  west." 

"  But  vfiy  sister  and  nieces  do  not  resume  their 
work." 

"We,"  said  Mrs.  Asa  Marvin,  "keep  Saturday 
evening  with  tbd  old  people,  and  also  Sunday  eyei>- 
ing,  as  the  ministers  of  the  present  day  teach  us."  ^ 
"  hinovations  are  fast  gaining  ground,"  said  the  old 
]ddy,  shaking  her  head,  "the  , Lord  grant,  they  maj- 
be  for  the  best."  '  *^ 


^■\ 


-m-^'"'' 


■■fH 


* 


% 


# 


"^1 


3r 

CHAPTER  IV. 


Since  in  each  scheme  of  life  I've  fail' J, 

And  disappuintmcfit  sueins  entaiPd) 

O  Solitude  !  now  give  mu  rest. 

And  hush  the  tempest  in  my  breast. 

Graiptqeo. 
And  past  those  seU!er*8  haunts  the  eye  might  roam, 
'tVhere  carlh'a  unliving  sil<>nre  all  would  seem  ;  ^ 

SavH  whtre  on  rocks  the  beaver  built  hin  domet 
Or  buffalo  remote  lovv'd  far  from  human  home. 

CiHtiPBELTi. 

Ephraim  Marvin  rcmainec^  a  week  at  his  early 
home ;  then  became  impatient  : "  return  to  his  lit- 
tle Evelina,  and  to  settle  his  busi».  ss ;  for  he  had 
formed  a  plan  of  conduct,  which  he  meant  steadily 
to  pursue.     After  taking  leave  of  his  mother,  and  the 
rest  of  the  family,  he  again  sailed  from  New-Haven. 
He  now  meant  to  visit  Theodore,  who  was  at  a  cler- 
gyman's, near  the  boundary  line,  between  Connec- 
ticut and  New- York.     The  grateful  boy  instantly  re-  . 
cognized  his  benefactor,  and  flew  into  his  embrace. 
Mr.  Marvin  found  him  much  grown,  and  heard  from 
the  principal  of  the  academy,  a  very  favorable  ac- 
count of  his  adopted  son's  improvement.     Theodore 
made  many  enquiries  conceding  aunt  Martha;  was 
very  inquisitive  about  the  little  girl  introduced  into 
the  family,  since  he  had  left  it,  and  wept  on  hearing  of 
Mr:i,  Marvin's  death;    but  his  heart  bounded  ^ith 
joy,  when  he  understood,  he  was  to  return  with  his 
benefacior  to  New- York. 

The  next  day  they  were  both  landed  at  tlie  bat- 
tery. Theodore  could  not  contain  his  admiration  of 
that  elegant  promenade.  Mr.  Marvin  left  the  little 
Frenchman  at  aunt  Martha's,  and  hastened  to  visit 
his  duighter,  whom  he  found  very  glad  to  see  him, 
and  very  impatient  to  return  to  the  city.  The  fol- 
io win;j;  day,  Mr.  Marvin  devoted  to  settling  his  bu?i- 


[ 


'M' 


m 


40        • 

ncss.and  soon  brought  all  his  crrditors  (o  a  comproiri' 
ise,  as  they  were  perfectly  convinced  of  his  lionour- 
abhi  (loahng,  and  that  his  faihirc  proceeded  from  un- 

^        avoidable  inii^fortunes;  and  when  all  w«is  settled. 

s!  they  presented  him  witii  five  hundred  dollars,  out  oi' 
file  proceeds  of  the  property  he  had  delivered  up  fo 
them ;  and  one  who  had  piirchaf-cd  thy  house,  in 
which  Mr^  Marvin  resided,  desired  him  to  retain  it, 
until  beflhould  have  adjusted  his  future  plans. 

These  courtesies  were  balm  to  the  wounded  mind 
•four  citizen,  as  they  convinced  him  that  his  repu- 
tation was  still  uDsuflied  in  pubiic  estimation.  He 
fhen  called  on  sister  Martha,  and  gave  her  a  pretty 
diffuse  account  of  his  visit  to  Connecticut.  Thu 
good  maiden  was  so  delighted  at  linding  her  brother 
again  so  communicative,  that  she  scarcely  thouglU 
of  condoling  with  liim  on  his  failure. 

"  But  Martha,  I  have  to  begin  the  world  onceraoro.'* 
**  Sure  enough,  brother,  and  what  moan  you  to  do?" 

**  "Sister  Martha,  I  aro  tired  of  the  city.     I  am  now 

'^  sipnsible  of  the  little  happiness,  that  honours  and 
riches  can  yield.  Aiid,  independently  of  that  con- 
viction, I  cannot  now  reconcile  my  mind  to  com- 
mence business  in  the  humble  manner  we  once  did, 
and  live  our  former  scenes  oyer  again.  My  heart  has 
suffered  much  in  this  city.  1  must  leave  it.  I  have 
been  ^hghted  with  the  happiness  my  brother  en- 
joys on  his  farm.  How  healthy  he  is !  I  have  been  a 
valetudinarian  these  many  years,  but  will  see  if 
health  and  happiness  are  not  agaiu  attainable.  I 
will  cultivate  the  earth." 

*^  But,  brother,  you  have  not  a  farm,  nor  the  means 
of  purchasing  one." 

"Not  a  cultivated  one;  but  brother  Moses  has  suc- 
ceeded on  new  land ;  and  why  should  not  I  make  the 
same  experiment  ?  1  was  brought  up  to  farming,  and 
understaud  it.     Five  years  since,  [  was  entrusted 


41 


it 


() 


with  the  sale  of  ten  thousfiml  acres  of  wild  land, 
which  was  disposed  of,  at  a  very  low  rate.  It  then 
cnmc  into  my  mind  to  purchase  live  hundred  acres 
(or  Theodore.     I  had  the  deed  made  out  in  his  name. 

The  land,  thought  I,  will  rise  in  value,  and  may 
prove  a  little  estate  for  the  bov  by  the  time  he  conges 

fagc.  A  few  days  after  this  transaction;, J^^»»|ft 
was  bom.  I  then  made  another  purcha^ife  if^|||e 
hundred  acres  adjoining  the  first,  and  hadl^^^gd 
made  out  in  her  name.  This  suggested  to  me  ffifKlea 
i)f  providing  something  for  the  orphan  boy,should  any 
misfortune  befall  me.  I  therefore  lodged  five  hun- 
dred dollars  in  a  bank  in  his  name,  and  what  I  did 
for  him,  I  wished  likewise  to  do  for  my  Httle  girl.  I 
have  no  longer  the  m/ans  of  keeping  Thectdore  at  a 
seminary;  but  he  had  sufficient  eduQation  for  a  farm- 
er; and,  should  he  be  fond  of  lea^mng,  he  will  still 
have  ade.^uato  leisure  for  study.  I  intend  fo  settle 
on  Kvelina's  land,  and  shall  make  use  of  her  five  hun- 
dried  dollars,  and  the  five  hundred  my  creditors  have 
left  me.  Theodora's  must  not  be  touched ;  but  he 
will  reside  with  us,  and  when  he  shall  have  attained 
sufficient  age,  his  five  hundred  dollars  will  assist  him 
to  clear  and  cultiva^  his  own  land.  In  the  mqan 
time  I  wi'l  improve  the  value  of  Evelina's.  We  will 
enjoy  it  together  during  my  life,  and  at  my  death  it  - 
shall  be  hcr's.  If  you,  sister  Martha,  can  coiisfent  to 
go  into  the  w^oods  with  us,  and  will  once  more  tibfi 
upon  you  ti.e  management  of  my  house,  you  net"^ 
not  dread  being  ever  again  supplanted  by  anoth 
mistress." 

"  Consent  to  go  ihtjo  the  woods !  Yes  indeed,  broth- 
er; I  will  go  with  you  any  wherm  I  am  deiijghted 
with  your  plan,  and  trust  you  will  not  Iosq  by  flngi 
management ;  for  I  was  hkewise  reared  on  a  ^ttb j 
but  I  have  no  more 
must  have  been  expended  long  siiicev 

4 


# 


't^ 


m 


f 


4 


money  to  ^ryou;  l^rinine 
lAe.A  Innor  sinfte.:" 


»•%♦ 


42 


mW, 


^^ You  have  still  a  thousand  dollars,  Martha;  lor 
when  you  left  my  house,  I  lodged  your  property  iu 
a  hank,  where  tlie  interest  has  continued  to  accumu- 
late; but  I  do  not  now  require  your  money.  Let  it 
remain  where  it  is,  to  be  at  your  command,  in  case 
of  any  unforeseen  emei^ency." 

**  No,  indeed,  brother,  add  it  to  yours.  We  shall 
r^quiie  ready  money  on  new  land.'' 

"Well  Martha,  you  can  make  use  of  the  interest, 
to  purchase  what  may  be  necessary  to  tit  you  out  for 
the  woods;  but,  take  my  advice,  and  leave  the  prin- 
cipal in  the  bank.  It  will  oe  a  corps  de  reserve,  a-; 
gainst  any  unexpected  casualty." 

Miss  Marvin  immediately  commenced  prepara- 
tions for  their  removal  to  the  west.  She  was  delight- 
ed with  the  hustle  this  occasioned ;  for  it  aniused  and 
dissipated  her  mind,  and  recalled  her  former  ener- 
gies mto  action. 

Mr.  Marvin  now  brought  Evelina-  home,  and  in- 
troduced her  and  Theodore  together,  recommending 
to  them  to  love  each  other,  and  ever  to  consider 
themselves  as  brother  and  sister. 

"  You  need  not  bid  me  love  this  sweet  little  girl," 
said  the  gallant  boy,  taking  her  hand,  *^for  1  did  so^ 
the  first  moment  1  beheld  her;  and  the  dear  little 
Evelina  shall  ever  find  a  most  devoted  and  atfection- 
ate  brt>ther,  in  the  grateful  Theodore." 

I' Do  you  then  love  me,  Theodore?"  said  the  little 
girl,  *'well  then  I  will  love  you  too,"  and  she  put  her 
arm  around  his  neck,  and  kissed  him.  "  I  never 
saw  you  before,  Theodore,  but  still  1  know  you  very 
well;  for  aunt  Maitha  has  often  talked  to  me  about 
you."  ^ 

"What  a  happy  boy  am  I,"  he  replied,  "I  have  a 
dear  little  sister,  andsuch  kind  protectors.  Heaven 
who  bereaved  mc  of  my  natural  guardians,  has  amply 
repaid  me  for  thc'»Tloss.'^ 


» 


^ 


Mr.  Marvin  Was  deliglitcd  with  this  plcasin;^  ajr^Je- 
nient  between  them.  "Ahvays  love  each  otl.cr,  my 
filiiMren,"  said  he,  taking  a  hand  of  each,  "  and)ou 
will  matepially  contributc'to  the  happiness  of  your 
father," 

Provioiisly  to  removing  from  tlie  city,  Mr.  Marvin 
paid  a  visit  to  Mr,  Vanderhauscm     The  good  farm* 
cr  received  his  old  friend  not  the  less  cordially,  thaf 
the  news  of  his  failure  Iwd  already  reached  him;: 
and  he  and  Mr,  Vanddriiausen.  strove  by  every  at- 
tention tO' console  the  bankrupt.     Marrin  then  re-* 
quested  of  the  farmer  an  assortment  of  choice  seeds, 
that  tiie  goodknan  prided  himself  much  in  possessing; 
and  also,  directions  for  using  them.      Vanderhauscrr 
iiistatitly  set  about  making  the  selection,  and  being 
alone  with  his  protegee,  "  I  don't  want  to  discourage 
you,  Mr,  Mervin,"  said  he,  "but  am  thinking  yovt 
will  iind  it  rather  difficult  to  work  hard,  and  clear 
new  land :  you  that  have  so  long  lived  the  life  of  s 
gentleman," 

"Resolution  and  perseverance  will  conquer  many 
difficulties,  Mr.  Vanderhausen,  I  was  reared  a  far- 
mer, and  nature  endowed  me  with  a  strong  consti^ 
tution,  which  has  indeed  been  weakened  by  the  in- 
activity oP  a  city  life.  Still  I  am  confident,  that  air 
and  exercise  will  render  me  robust,  and  restore  my 
former healthand  strength," 

"That  may  be,  Mr,  Marvin;  yet,  clearing  a  new 
farm  is  very  hard  work,  and  in  them  there  new  coun- 
tries, they  say  there  is  no  such  thing  as  hiring  a  hand, 
all  being  engaged  in  clearing  for  themselves  ;  and 
then,  when  a  hand  is  to  be  had,  the  wages  are  so  ve- 
ry high;  and  you  will  have  no  women  folks  with 
you  but  Miss  Marvin,  and  that  delicate  little  Evelina. 
Though,  if  you  could  get  a  black  or  two,  with  their 
assistance  you  might  do  pretty  w^ll*" 
"I  have  not  the  me?uis  of  purchasing  blacks,  Mr. 


44 


ii!  I 


varid^rhausen,  and  to  hire  them  to  come  with  me, 
w6uld  be  too  expensive." 

"Well,"  said  the  benevolent  farmer,  "I  have 
more  of  them  than  I  know  what  to  do  with.  My 
blacks  have  multiplied  so  fast,  that  they  are  now  in 
iriy  way;  for  I  will  not  dispose  of  them  to  hard  mas- 
ters, whom  they  or  I  know  nothing  about;  and 
should  I  give  them  their  freedom,  that  would  not  be 
doing  themselves  good,  nor  any  one  elSe;  for  I  nev- 
er* found  a  negro  brought  up  in  slavery,  make  a  good 
iiceman.  You  shall  then  take  a  couple  off  my  hands, 
which  will  greatly  oblige  me.  There  is  Lany,  whose 
mother  id  dead;  she  has  no  relations  in  the  family, 
and  Minnv'fi  daughters  are  continually  teazing  her. 
She  thinks  all  the  world  of  Miss  Marvin,  and  took  a 
great  fancy  to  your  little  girl,  when  she  was  here  with 
her  mother  last  summer.  Let  her  go.  She  is  a 
smart  wench  of  eighteen,  and  v^ill  be  t)f  great  service 
<o  Miss  Marvin.  And  there  is  your  old  friend  Cato ; 
a  sturdy  fellow  that.  He  is  just  turned  of  twenty. 
His  mother  has  brought  us  six  boys.  So  she  will  not 
miss  this  one;  and  we  have  enough  of  fiivc  on  the 
farm ;  that  I  am  sure  of." 

"But,  My.  Vanderhausen,  I  have  not,  consistently 
with  my  other  arrangements,  the  means  of  r^mbur- 
singyou." 

^'Oh,  tush  man!  'Tis  I  will  be  the  gainer,"  re- 
plied the  farmer,  "in  getting  rid  of  some  of  my  grotrn 
family ;  but  if  you  must  need  think  of  reimbursement, 
wait  till  you  have  cleared  your  farm,  and  become 
once  more  a  forehanded  man.  Then,  if  you  choose, 
you  may  make  my  wife  and  daughter  some  little  pres- 
ent." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Vanderhausen,"  said  Marvin,  "T  ac- 
cept your  kind  and  generous  offer,  and  I  trust  the 
time  will  come,  when  I  shall  have  the  means  of  re- 
paying you,  as  you  deserve." 


4^ 


« 


-."Pf 


The  loilowirt^  morning,  the  wagon  was  ftr^^pltredJ. 
which  the  good  ibinner  freighted  with  el  sefection  of 
his  choicest  seeds.  In  the  hack  were  seated,  grin»- 
niiig  as  they  went  along,  Cato  and  Lany ;  while  An- 
thony Vanderhausen  and  Mr«  Marvin,  occupied  tho 
front  seat. 

Ephraim  Marvin  now  purchased  farming  utensils-^ 
and  othes  necessaries  proper  for  a  new  farm ;  among 
which  was  a  box  of  window  glass,  and  a  propei^  sup- 
ply of  strong  clothing,  sufficient  to  last  until  they 
should  be  enabled  to  make  their  .Owi>»  AM  these, 
with  the  family  and  the  twa  blacks^  were  embarked 
on  board  a  sloop  for  Albany.  On  reaching  that  city,^. 
oitr  traveller  purchased  a  strong  span  of  horses  and  a 
Jan^e  covered  wagon,which  entirely  excluded  the  rain 
and  sun.  Into  this  the  family  &:  baggage  were  arrang- 
ed, and  away  they  dr»ve.  Cato  was  now  of  admi- 
rable use ;  for  he  had  been  accustomed  to  driving 
teams  at  Vanderhausen  farm.  Itwas  the  latter  end 
of  August,  and  the  weather  extremely  warm.  Mar- 
vin found  the- heat  intolerable^  and  gladly  reposed 
himself  under  the  shelter  of  the  wagon,  while  the  ne- 
gro, enjoying  the  burning  rays  ofthe  sun,  drove  along 
with  high,  glee,  and  Theodore  who  had  contracted  a 
great  familiarity  with  Cato,  mostly  kept  his  seat  be- 
side him. 

But  the  vehicle,  covered  as-it  was,  was  not  wUhr* 
out  an  opening,  through  which  Marvin  and  his  sis- 
ter could  see  and  admire  the  cliarmiug  vale,  that 
lay  on  each  side  of  th©  Mohawk.  At  length  they  ar^ 
rived  at  Utica.  This  was  in  1307;  and  Utica,  an 
inconsiderable  village,  displayed  but  little  prospect 
of  the  importance  to  which  it  has  since  arisen.. 
There  our  travellers  remained  several  days,  which 
Mr.  Marvin  employed  in  collecting  information  con- 
cerning his  land,  tlie  settlers  in  the  vicinity,  &c.  He 
Jcarnedj  that  it  was  indeed  anew  place,  in  every  a^" 


m^ 


mi 


tG: 


^  (^ptation  of  the  term.  Still  his  courage  did  not  llil  • 
t^r;  for  his  determination  was  fixed,  to  proceed  with 
fais  undertaking.  * 

A  t  Utica  j  they  renewed  their  stores ;  for  they  carri- 
ed their  provisions  along  with  them ;  and  then  again 
set  forward  on  their  travels.  They  had  no  guide, 
biit  drove  along  the  high  road,  as  the^  were  directed. 
The  first  night  they,  found  accomodations  at  a  rude 
public  house,  and  the  next  at  a  small  hut,  cliimsily^ 
Built  with  logs. 

"'dSft'  the  third  day,  the  road  began  fb  grow  wild  in- 
deed !  It  was  cut  through  the  wilderness ;  while,  on 
each  side  of  them,  afose  in  sombre  majesty,  the  im- 
mense trees  of  the  forest,  some  of  which  had  proba- 
bly betjrt  growing  shice  thcfirst'subsiding  of  the  del- 
uge. The  underbrush,  closely  interwoven  with  the 
trunks,  filled  up  each  intermediate  space ;  while  the 
sameness  of  the  scene  was  only  relieved  by  one  oc- 
casional small  clearing,  at  uncertain  intervals,  in 
which  a  log  cabin  reared  its  humble  head.  From 
these  a  number  of  ragged  children  gathered  round  - 
the  door,  while  others  filled  with  their  heads  the  oth- 
wise  vacant  window  frame;  Young  Theodore  piti> 
ed  them  greatly.  "My  son,"  said  Mr.  Marvin, 
"weigh  not  happiness  by  outward  glare,  but  by  its 
intrinsic  value.  Tell  those  children,  that  you  pity 
them,  and  they  will  wonder  what  you  mean.  They 
possess  necessary  food  and  wild  beauty,  and  arc  un- 
acquainted with  any  higher  source  of  enjoymciit, 
These  children  of  the  forest  would  languish  in  the 
seminary,  whore  you  have'been  educated,  Thcsro 
very  persons  arc  in  tbe  high  road  to  wealth.  Pass 
this  road,  a  few  years  hence,  and  tlie  change  then 
displayed  to  your  view  will  appear  the  eifett  of  ma- 
gic. The  manner3  of  the  inhabitants  will  then  ariie- 
iiorate.  Education  and  rctincmcnl,  arts  and  scieu- 
cts  will  graduall;^.  follow." 


47 


Theodore,  wh^had  a  great  respect  for  the  opin^ 
ions  of  his  protector,  no  longer  pitied  the  Httle  fores- 
ters ;  but  would  gladly  have  sought  some  acquaint- 
ance with  them,  had  they  remained  stationary  a  suffix 
cient  time  for  him  to  make  the  attempt. 

The  sun  was  fast  sinking  below  the  majestic  tre©^ 
of  the  illimitable  forest.  The  horses,  fatigued  wi^ 
their  long  journey,  proceeded  <but  slowly,  notwith- 
standing the  chirping  and  whooping  of  Cato.  At 
length  the  sun's  parting  rays  were  scarcely  perceiv- 
able amidst  the  thick  underbrush  of  the  wilderness. 

*'How  dark  it  is  getting,"  said  the  little  Evelina, 
'•shall  we  not  soon  co  le  to  a  house,  Papa?  Oh !  my 
limbs  are  so  crampc      i  it  1  am  afraid  1  shall  never 


run  agam 


•5? 


"  Never  fear,  but  you  will  run  fast  enough,  my 
dear,  when  you  are  set  upon  the  ground.  But,  Ca- 
to, cannot  you  mead  the  snail  pace  of  these  horses  ?" 
"No,  indeed,  massa;  the  horses  go  no  more  for 
Cato.  I  whip,  1  chirrup.  All  for  nothing.  Get  up, 
you  lazy  tings,  get  up,"  said  he,  beating  them ;  but 
the  animals  proceeded  no  faster. 

Marvin  gazed  around,  but  no  clearing  met  his 
.'\'iew.  All  was  dark  and  impenetrable.  The  sun 
was  no  longer  discernible.  His  parting  rays  had 
disappeared.  The  road  now  grew  very  intricate. 
It  seemed  to  branch  into  several  directions,  and  Ca- 
to, at  a  loss  how  to.  proceed,  stood  irresolute. 

"Ah,  massa,  there  be  so  many  roads,  all  the  same 
as  no  road;  what  must  I  do?" 

Mr.  Marvi  a  looked  eagerly  around.  His  perplex- 
ity encreased.  He  descended  from  the  wagon,  and 
walked  round  the  openings ;  but  the  true  direction 
of  the  road  could  not  be  ascertained. 

Cato  saw  his  perplexity,  and  giving  the  reins  to 
Theodore,.  "  Hold  fast,  young  massa ;  no  be  afraid, 
misse;  no  fear,  little  missc.  The  horses  be  tirecj^ 
they  can't  run ;  the v  can't  n.-ovc." 


^ 


'^■; 


11.:    ,| 


''  Ife  ficw  to  join  his  master.     **What  can*  Wivdo, 
aiaseia/" 

''I  cannot  devise  any  expedient,"  said  Mr.  Mar- 
vin.    Cato  ran  up  several  of  tbe  openings  j  but  they 
"  were  all  so  very  similar,  that  he  returned  as  uncer- 
tain as  ever.     The  gloom  of  evening  now  enveloped 
them,  and  they  could  scarcely  discern  each  other. 

"  Ilark !  Is  iK)t  that  the  howhng  of  wolves  ?"    cri- 
ed Lany. 

'•Silence  your  childish  fears,"  '«aid  Mr.  Marviwj 
''"but  we  must  decide  on  something." 

"Hush,  hush,  massa,"  cried Catoj  '-^1  tink  I  hear 
sfeps."  j 

They  listened  in  isilence.     The  footsteps  became 
.  more  distinct.     They  gazeil  in  the  direction  of  the 
st)und.     Aheavy  tread  approached;  but  the  gloom 
was  too  deep  to  distinguish  any  thing.     An  incon- 
gruous mass  of  motion  came  near.     The  white  eye- 
;  balls  of  Gato  seemed  starting  from  their  sockets. 

"Well  met,  dears,"  said  a  voice,  "and  where  may 
you  l>e  travelling  to?" 

It  was  a  pedler  wi<h  a  padi,  whose  brogue  declai'- 
ed  liim  a  native  of  Hibernia. 

"O,  you  arc  welcome  i<ndeed,"  said  Mr.  Marvin, 
"you  may  most  piobably extricate  us  from  our  per- 
plexity. We  are  travelling  to  the  westward,  to 
Tonnewonte.  Ca:iyou  direct  us  in  the  rif^lit  road  ? 
for  it  herc  appears  to  branch  out  in  several  direc- 
tions." 

"The  road  does  indeed  divide  Jiere,  for  several 
iliflerent  places,"  said  the  pedlar,  "  but,  arrdh  dears, 
it  is  me  can  guide  }^)u ;  fori  am  going  a  bit  of  the 
wav  to  Buffalo  mvself." 

"How  far  is  ittowhere  we  can  procure  lodgings?*' 
enquired  our  ti'aveller. 

"As  for  lodgings,  ifit  be  a  tarem  you  mane,  where 
y<?u  can  find  beds,  it  is  many  a  long  mile ;  but  if  you 


!  ir 


...T" 


#^. 


tfC^ 


49 


mane  a  private  house,  there  is  Habakkah  Joi^es, 
lives  a  bit  of  five  miles  off.  It  is  true,  his  house  is 
small,  and  there  is  but  one  bed  in  the  r«om  beiow, 
and  he  has  ten  children,  but  then  there  is  the  loft, 
and  the  little  snug  bam  he  has  built  J' 
^'  Is  that  the  nearest  house  ?" 
"Arralf  yes,  dears,  and  the  only  near  house  for 
seven  miles." 

"Papa,  papa,"  cried  Evelina,  "it is  quite  dark. 
Wlien  are  we  to  come  to  a  house  ?" 

"Och,  and  indeed,  you  have  a  family  here,"  said  " 
Pat  ?  "  Och,  youhad  better  make  haste,  if  you  wan^ 
to  reach  Habakkah  Jones's  to  night.     Come  Mr. 
Blackee,  drive   forward  your  horses,  I  will  walk 
before.^'  ^^ 

Cato  took  his  seat,  Mied  and  chirped,  but  all 
his  endeavors  would  not  make  the  animals  mend 
their  snail  pace. 

"  I  am  thinking,  honeys,"  said  the  Pedlar, "  that  at 
this  rate,  midnight  will  not  bring  us  to  Habakkah 
Jones's.  Now,  1  have  a  bitof  a  mind,  you  had  bet- 
ter encamp." 

"  But  the  wild  beasts,"  said  Mr.  JIarvin,  "  they 
must  be  numerous  in  this  wilderness." 

"  Make  but  a  good  fire,"  replied  the  Hibernian, 
"arid  I  will  warrant  you,  they  will  not  trouble  us." 
"Man vis  the  time,  and  oft,  I've  slept  out  doors 
mj'self.  The  ladies  and  children,  och  the  pretty 
souls,  they  can  sleep  in  the  wagon,  for  no  doubt 
you  carry  beds  with  you." 

Mr.  Marvin  consulted  with  his  sister;  arid  it  was 
at  length  agreed  to  encamp  there  that  night. 

"  I  will  encamp  with  you,"  said  the  pedlar ;  "and 
may-be,  dears,  but  I  may  get  something  fresh  for 
supper." 

Cato,  all  agility,  soon  kindled  a  fire.  The  pdfiar 
set  down  his  pack,  and  assisted  to  gather  fuel.     Mar- 

5 


# 


t; 


i 


60 


..^'T 


vin  handed  hiis  sister  and  Evelina ,  out  of  the  v(^' 
on,  and  adjusted  themselves  near  the  iirc,  while 
Theodore  bustled  about,  frpm  one  to  the  other, 
^nd,  after  seeing  Evelina  comfortably  situated,  ran 
^  &fter  Cato  ;  and  the  pedlar,  who  had  often  passed 
through  these  woods,  directed  them  to.a  spring. 

The  tearkettle  was  filled,  and  placed  by  the  fire ; 
while  Lany,  acting  under  the  direction  of  jMiss  Mar- 
"^in,  sought  their  provisions  in  the  wagon. 

The  moon  now  rose  resplendent,  and  displa)*ed 
■^  the  wildness  of  the  scene.     Marvin  ga^ed  at  the 

Ibrilliant  canopy  extended  oyer  tl;ieir  heads.  "  It  is 
very  light,''  said  Pat,  "ana.it.  shall,  go  hard,  but  I 
will  get<;  some  ^out,  for  my  ^hare,  pf  the  supper. — 
There  is  a  filrook  near  by,  and  I'll  just  get  out 
my  line,  and  step  back  wiHt  the  trout." 

Just  as  Pat  disappeared, ^the  i:eport.of  A  gun  was 
heard.  Aunt  Martha  started  up,  very  much  alarm- 
ed! The  report  was  repeated.  JVIr.  Marvin  arose 
and  listened  intently.  Steps  appi'oached.  It  was 
Cato,  followed  by  Theodore,  with  a  gun  on  his 
shoulder,  and  a  brace  of  partridges  in  his  hand. 

"  See,  massa,  what  I  have- shot  for  supper.  JVell, 
if  we  be  left  in  the  wilderness,  there  be  no  danger 
of  starving,  for  it  is  as  full  of,  game,  as  the  farm 
yard  at  Vanderhajiisen  farm  of  fowl," 

"  Keep  to  truth,  Cato,  said  Lany  ;  for  when  the 
fowls  be  at  roqst,  if  you  fire  two  guns,  woujd  you 
but  kill  two  ?"  ; 

^'Now,  hold  your  prate,  Lany,"  rephed  the  ne- 
gro, "  and  dress  the  partridges  for  Massa  and  Mis 


% 


se's 


supper,    while  I  chop    wood  for  the 


night." 


Then,  throwing  them  at  her,  but  still  retaining  his 
gun,  he  seized  an  axe,  and,  going  to  a  httle  distance, 
began  chopping  with  a  sturdy  arm. 

Lany  quickly  dressed  the  game,  and,  broaching 
them  on  pointed  slicks,  broiled  them  for  supper. 


m 


t^: 


w 


51 


The  pedlar  soon  returned  with  a  couple  of  fin<i 
trout. 

"  Your  angling  has  been  very  successful,"  said 
Mr.  Marvin. 

"  Ah,  now,  dear,"  said  the  pedlar,  "  leave  Pat 
Murphy  alone  lor  fishing;  but  the  trout  in  yqudei* 
brook  are  as  thick  as  potatoes  in  the  fields  of  dear 
little  Ireland  ;  and  good  reason  they  should  be  plen* 
ty,  for  there  is  no  clearing  for  many  a  mile,  and 
neither  man,  woman,  nor  child  trouble  them ;  ex- 
cept it  be  even  myself,  now  and  then,  orsoinejln- 
dians  or  stra^Ier  passing  by.  But  now,  dears, 
you  will  see  Pat  roast  them  for  supper ;  and  a  br^Q, 
appetite  has  he  got." 

Lany  then  spread  a  table  clotl%n.the  ground,  on 
which  she    displaye*^  plenty  of   cold  provif^ons. 
Aunt  Martha  made  the  tea,  and  invited  the  pedlar  - 
to  eat  with  them  ;  ahd  he^  praising  his  own  cookery, 
added  his  trout  to  the  fare.  •  iii^        ' 

Our  travellers  sat  down  to  supper,  with  art  excel- 
lent appetite,  while  Cato  and  Lany,  seated  at  a 
little  distance,  eat  heartily,  at  the  same  time,  rising 
occasionally,  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  white  peo- 
ple. The  repast  hnished,  and  the  remains  laid  by, 
they  began  to  make  preparations  for  their  night's 
lodgings.  Mr.  Marvin  assisted  Cato  and  the  Pedlar 
in  preparing  a  suijicient  pile  of  fuel,  to  last  through 
the  night ;  for  it  was  necessary  to  keep  up  a  fire,  as 
well  to  dissipate  the  dampness  of  the  night-air,  as 
to  frighten  away  the  beasts,  who  might  otherwise 
nave  proved  formidable  visitors,  and  the  smoke  also 
served  to  dissipate  the  troublesome  flights  of  insects 
that  environed  them.  Miss  Marvin  and  Lany  then 
spread  the  beds  in  the  wagon.  Evelina  slept  by  her 
Aunt,  while  Lany  reposed  at  theirfeet. 

Mr.  Marvin  and  Theodore  were  each  accommo- 
^4atcd  with  a  cj^uilt.  a  pillow,  and  a  blanket,  and 


J^^ 


" — 

! 
I 

■    . 

i': 
1 

1' 

i 

1 

^1 

i* 

li 

11 

■ 

III 

li  m 

m 

1 

t 

1 

l|; 

1 

!        1: 

I!    i 

'■•  1 . 

1       )■ 

^2 

slept  oh  the  ground,  with  their  feet  to  the  iire,  un- 
der no  canopy  but  that  of  Heaven.  And  the  ped- 
lar and  Cato,  each  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  threw 
themselves  very  contentedly  on  the  ground. 

The  wagon  had  been  brought  near  the  fire,  and 
^he  Ijiorses  fastened  to  it  with,  a  rope.  Each  of  the 
men  had  a  gun  lying  by  him,  and  in  this  manner 
they  slept  soundly  through  the  night,  undisturbed 
by  the  howling  of  wolves,  or  the  croaking  of  frogs  ; 
while  the  pedlar  and  Cato,  at  the  end  ofeach  nap, 
replenished  the  tire,  from  the  pile  of  fuel  they  bad 
piovidedt 


'^W^' 


"""Ww' 


'"^P^ 


m 


r-,",r 


Y^ 


63 


CHAPTER  V. 


r 


*'  Rich  In  content,  in  Na(ure*i  bdnnty  rich, 

In  Herbs  and  rruits,  whatever  greeni  (he  ^prin^, 

When  heaven  descends  In  nhovreri,  or  bHods  the  boug)it 

When  summer  reddens,  and  when  AiUumn  beame^ 

Or  in  (he  wintry  glebe  whatever  lies 

Conceard,and  fattens  with  the  ricben!  fap^  ^ 

These  are  not  wanting ;  nor  the  millcy  drove, 

Ltixnriant,  spread  o'er  all  the  lowing  valp, 

Nor  bleating  moantaiD9«  nor  the  chide  of  s(ream«| 

And  hutnof  bees,  beneath  the  ^hade, 

Or  (lirown  at  large  amid  the  fragrant  bay/* 

Tbompsoit. 

SOON  as  tlie  (lay  dawned,  our  travellers  were  in 
motion.  Tiie  tea-kettle  was  boiled,  and  they  par- 
took of  a  hearty  breakfast,  before  re-commencing 
their  journey. 

Mr.  Marvin  and  Theodore  walked  forward  witli 
tlie  pedlar ;  and  the  horses,  guided  by  Cato,  ami 
refreshed  with  their  night's  reatj  trotted  Iniskiy 
along. 

In  this  manner  they  proceeded  for  several  dayv^, 
still  accompanied  by  the  pedlar,  who  proved  very 
valuable  as  a  guide,  and  by  his  facetious  drollery 
served  to  divert  any  fit  of  the  spleen,  that  might  oc- 
casionally seize  either  brother  or  sister,  whicu  wea- 
ried by  the  monotony  and  deep  gloom  o{  the  wide  ex- 
tended forest,  orrumihatingratherdespondingly  on 
the  difficulties  that  lay  before  them. 

The  pedlar  often  left  them^  when  approaching  a 
clearing,  to  display  bis  mej'chandize  to  the  inmates 
of  the  log-hoftses,  but  soon  rejoined  the  travellers, 
as  his  agility  was  more  than  equal  to  ths^t  of  the  tired 
horses. 

At  length,  after  many  days  hard  travelling,  and 
many  nights  passed  in  the  open  air,  Mr.  Marvin  and 
his  family  reached  the  village  of  Tonnewonte,  fit  i- 

5* 


i\ 


m 


M 


y 


n;' 


i.":l 


ato  on  the  creek  of  the  same  name,  at  a  few  miles 
d.8  ance  from  Lake  Erie. 

Tlie  next  morning  Mr.  Marvin,  followed  by  Ca- 
to,  and  guided  hy  a  man  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  hurrounding  country,  rode  out  on  horse 
back,  to  view  his  land.  The  survey  pleased  him 
gretttly.  It  lay  on  a  branch  of  the  Tonncwonte 
creek,  and  proved  to  be  of  an  excellent  quality.  On 
a  further  examination,  they  discovered,  on  Evelina's 
land,  the  remains  of  a  beavers'  dam,  and  a  clearing 
of  twenty  acres,  made  by  those  industrious  little 
animals. 

"  See,  massa,"  cried  Cato,  "  the  beaver  save  us 
much  trouble.  How  soon,  massa,  we  can  here  clear 
a  large  tield,  and  have  it  ready  to  sow  with  winter 
wheat." 

"  You  are  right,  Cato.  Her§  is  a  good  begin- 
ning, and  we  may,  in  time,  have  a  line  farm.  May 
we  not  hope  that  it  will  yet  equal  Vanderhausen 
farm  ?" 

"  Ah  massa,  Cato  be  grey,  before  this  be  farm 
like  massa  Vanderhausen's." 

"  Industry  and  perseverance,  Cato,  perform  many 
wonders." 

The  land  had  been  surveyed,  and  nothing  re- 
mained, but  to  settle  it.  A  camp  was  immediatefy 
constmcted,  and  improvements  commenced.  Miss 
Marvin  and  her  httle  niece  4odged  at  the  village 
while  a  house  was  building,  but  Lany  was  required 
at  the  farm,  to  cook  for  the  men. 

Mr.  Marvin  was  soon  known  and  respected  by 
his  neighbors,  and  the  Bee  he  gave,  to  draw  out 
logs,  with  which  to  construct  his  intended  habita- 
tion, was  numerously  attended,  while  the  guests 
were  plenteously  regaled  with  whiskey  and  spirits  ; 
and  Lany  cooked  them  an  excellent  dinner. 

A  sufficiency  of  logs  was  drawn,  in  one  day,  to 


M 


construct  the  building ;  and,  shortly  after,  another 
Bee  was  given,  to  hew  and  put  them  together ;  when 
Cato  shewed  that  he  could  handle  an  axe  with  any 
white  man  in  the  west ;  and  Ephraim  Marvin  de- 
monstrated, that  he  had  not  entirely  forgotten  his 
early  dexterity,  at  his  Other's  farm,  in  Connecticut. 
Mr.  Marvin  soon  had  a  convenient  habitation  to 
receive  his  family  in.     It  was  built  of  square  logs, 
intersecting  each  other  at  right  angles,  th^  inter-- 
«tices  being  filled  with  mortar,  and  the  roof  cover- 
ed with  shingles.     It  consisted  of  a  large  kitchen  at' 
one  end,  with  a  fire  place  nearly  the  breadth  of  the ' 
room.    The  other  end  of  the  house  contained  a  sit-" 
ting  room,  from  which  were  partitioned  two  small 
bed  rooms  ;  these  occupied  all  the  ground  floor,  and 
the  lofl  served  them  for  a  store  room  and  granary. 

Into  this  house  the  furniture,  brought  in  their 
wagon  from  New- York,  was  arranged,  to  the  great- 
est possible  advantage.  The  building  was  situated 
on  an  eminence,  at  the  foot  of  which  murmured  the 
brook,  as  it  rolled  by  its  tributary  waters,  and,  turn- 
ing a  mimic  point,  discharged  itself  into  the  Ton- 
newonte  creek.  Opposite  the  house  was  the  re- 
mains of  the  beaver  dam,  but  the  industrious  little 
animals,  while  clearing  the  land,  had  spared  two 
large  chesnut  trees,  which  crowned  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  and  |M^  overhung  the  new  habitation  of 
our  late  citizeliii 

Mis»  Marvin  was  delighted  with  the  situation,  and 
took  possession  of  her  new  habitation,  buoyant  with 
the  hope  of  future  happiness.  Evelina  was  pleased 
with  the  novelty,  and  Theodore  gratified  with  every 
thing. 

Miss  Marvin  had  a  high  opinion  of  externals  and 
propriety  of  appearance.  She,  thereforfe,  employ- 
ed Cato  to  procure  lime,^  smd,  with  the  assistance  of 
Lany,  whitewashed  the  trhole  ojitside,  as  well  as 
inside,  of  their  dwelling,  , 


:iT 


Their  neighborhood  was  compoi^ed  entirely  o{ 
uiW  settlers,  adventurers  from  various  countries, 
who  came  there  with  very  little  capital,  and  had 
dimply  built,  each  a  log  cabin,  containing  one,  or 
at  most  two  rooms. 

Among  these,   Marvin's  mansion  rose  prc-cm*- 
hent ;  and  their  neighbors,  judging  by  the  magnifi- 
cence of  the  dwelhng,  conjectured  that  the  new 
, settlers  must  be  fore-handed  people.      With  our 
•$patst>ut  at  elbow,  and  our  garntcnts  much  decay- 
5id,  we  may  harangue  on   freedom  and  equality. 
With  empty  pockets,  we  may  descant  on  the  noth-^ 
,l||ligne88  of  riches.     We  may,  if  very  eloquent,  be 
perhaps  attended  to ;  but,  let  a  moneyed  man  enter, 
^  and  intercupt  us  with  some  trifling  remark,  our  elo- 
quence will  then  be  unheeded  by  all  present.  They 
will  be  attendmg  to  the  votary  of  Pluto.- 

This  maxim  wa&  displayed  in  the  case  of  our  new 
settlers.  All  their  neighbors  were  willing  and  ready 
to  oblige  them.  Self  interest  certainly  mixed  with 
their  feelings ;  for,  if  Mr.  Marvin  gave  a  bee,  ail 
invited  were  sure  to  be  well  entertained.  If  he 
purchased  any  thing,  or  hired  assistance,  he  was 
^ure  to  pay  in  ready  money*  This  was  very  satis- 
factory m  a  newly  settled  country,  where  money 
was  very  scarce.  So  Mr.  Marvin  mstantly  rose  in- 
to a  man  of  consequence.  This  flattered  his  vani- 
ty, and  rendered  him  highly  pleased  with  his  situa- 
tion.. 

Our  tiew  settfer  and'  Ks  negro  immediately  sef* 
atbout  preparing  the  partially  cleared  land  for  sow- 
ing a  crop  of  winter  wheat ;  and,  witH  a  little  as- 
sistance, they  actually  prepared  fifteen  acres  that 
season. 

This  was  a  good  begmning.     Mr.  Marvin  had' 
high  hopes  of  success.     He  felt  his  health  and  ani- 
maT  spirits  improve  wifSl^c^stant  6:&ercise)  and  his 


67 


life  was  now  unhnbittered  by  domestic  uneasiness. 
On  his  return  home  from  his  labor,  his  little  Evelina 
flew  to  receive  her  father.  A  blazing  fire,  clean 
hearth,  and  comfortable  supper  awaited  him.  Aunt 
Martha  always  received  her  brotlier  with  a  cheerful 
smile.  Ah,  thought  Marvin,  how  could  I  thus  flit 
away  the  best  years  of  my  existence  !  Hitherto  I 
have  only  dreamed  of  happiness*  Now  I  begin  to 
realize  it.  %         .  * 

But  he  had  constant  employment',  eren  ailer  his 
fall  crop  was  sown.  Every  morning,  with  the  ris- 
ing sun,  Mr.  Marvin,  Theodore  and  Cato,  set  out 
to  work.  They  were  bufiily  employed  in  preparing 
a  pasture  ground,  and  in  clearing  laud,  on  which 
they  meant  to  raise,  the  following  year,  a  crop  of 
indian  com,  pumpkins,  and  potatoes,  not  only  for 
family  use,  but  also  to  feed  the  stock  that  was  to  be 
purchased,  and  of  which,  during  fhe^rstyear,  they 
very  much  felt  the  want. 

Lany  was  very  diligent  in  her  department,  whije 
aunt  Martha,  besides  superintendifig  the  household 
concerns,  prepared  stockings  and  mittens,  for  the 
whole  family.  Evelina  was  busily  occupied  in 
learning  to  knit  and  sew,  and  frequently  ran  about 
with  Theodore.  Thus  the  languor  of  ennui  found 
no  place  in  this  dwelling,  although  inhabited  by 
those  who  had  so  Mcently  enjoyed  the  conveniences 
and  refinements  of  the  polished  city  of  New- York, 
and  were  now  suddenly  transported  into  the  deptlis 
of  the  wilderness. 

In  this  manner  passed  the  winter.  In  January 
and  February,  great  quantities  of  snow  had  fallen. 
The  month  of  March  had  arrived.  The  sun  was 
very  powerful  th.  ough  the  day,  but  was  succeeded 
by  sharp  frosts  during  the  night,  a  good  season  jpis 
for  making  sugar.  .       °  '-  . 

Cato  aud  Theodoro  had  paid  a  visit  to  a  neigh- 


^ 


58 


boring  sugar-bush,  and  were  very  eager  for  one  of 
their  own  ;  but,  as  they  were  novices  in  the  art,  Mr; 
Marvin  engaged  the  services  of  Jerr^  Bushman,  a 
stout  young  fellow  of  the  neighborhood,  who  jinder- 
took  to  be  manager  of  the  concern.  An  excellent 
maple  bush  was  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile's  distai^e 
from  the  house.  Miss  Marvin  and  Evelina  walked 
out,  one  fine  day,  to  see  the  proceedings ;  but,  not 
"knowing  {the  way,  they  were  soon  involved  in  the 
snow,  without  any  rneans  of  extricating  themselves ; 
for  the  Ideat  of  the  sun  had  thawed  the  crust,  and 
rendered  the  snow  so  soft,  that  it  could  no  longer 
bear  them.  ' 

Evelirtft,"  quite  discouraged,  began  to  cry,  wheit 
lier  aunt  advised  her  to  be  quiet,  and  listen,  if  they 
could  not  discern  some  noise,  that  might  guide  them 
to  the  path.  But  all  was  silent.  They  listened  in 
vain.  Evelina  again  made  up  her  face  for  crying^ 
when  thie  stentorian  lungs  of  Jerry  were  heard,  ex- 
claiming, "  you  lazy  nigger  you,  will  y  wi  not  work  ? 
do  you  then  calculate  for  me  to  do  every  thing  ?  I 
guess  then  you  reckon  without  your  host.  Bfinj^. 
along  some  wood  and  mend  the  fire,  you  nigger.- 
Theodore,  you  lazy  boy,  make  ha§te,  and  bring 
along  some  sap.  There  now^  you  black  rascal,  do 
you  mean  to  make  such  a  fire  as  to  burn  the  sugar  all 
up  ?  Throw  in  some  sap ;  be  spry  you  fellow. 
What  do  you  mutter  ?  I  gue^s,  you  black  niggery 
I  have  enough  to  do,  to  stir  the  kettle." 

These  were  joyful  sounds  for  aunt  Martha  and  hlEv 
niece.  Theynowknew  in  what  direction  to  pro- 
ceed; but  they  sunk  in  the  snow  at  every  step,  and 
could  make  no  progress.  Evelina  screamed  with 
all  her  might.  Prese^itly  Theodore  was  seen,  boun- 
ding forward.  He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  i?et 
h^r  down  in  the  beaten  path,  which  had  been  con- 
cealed from  them  by  the  tr^es.     But  he  could  not 


i(:v:< 


^f 


'%9 


■■■jm 


iman,  a 


.  so  easily  assist  aunt  Martha,  though  he  endeavored 
to  direct  her  in  the  best  way  to  proceed,  when  Cato 
appeared  with  a  wooden  spade  on  his  shoulder,  with 
v^  hich  he  soon  cleared  away4;he  snow,  for  Miss  Mar- 
vin to  reach  the  main  path.  Theodore  then  oiTered 
tj^em  a  ^nk  of  sap,  from  a  vessel  formed  of  birch 
bark,  pinned  together  with  a  wooden  skewer,  which 
he  took  from  under  a  tree,  where  it  was  placed  for 
the  purpose  of  collecting  sap. 

After  drinking  of  this  pleasant  beverage,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  sugar  camp.  Jerry  was  stirring  the 
great  kettle  with  much  diligence.      He  raised  his 

'  jcyes  as  they  approached  him.  "  Good  day,  madam, 
a  hne  time  this  for  sugar  making.  Will  you  taste 
some  molasses,  my  little  gal  ?  Stop,  I  will  put  some 
to  cool  on  tlie  snow,  and  then  it  will  be  candy,  you 


■*«l 


?ee 


?? 


He  threw  out  two  or  three  ladies  full^but  continu- 
ed stirring  the  kettle,  while  Theodore  gathered  it  up, 
and  presented  it  to  aunt  Martha,  and  Evelina,  who 
found  it  indeed  excellent  can4y. 

Spring  advanced,  and  brought  a  new  accession  of 
joy  to  our  happy  family.     The  chesnuts,  enveloped 
in  green    foliage,  beautifully  contrasted  with   the 
white  washing  of  the  cottage.      The  slope  down  the 
hill  was  variegated  with  dilFering  shades  of  verdure, 
enHvened  with  flowers  of  various  hues.     Wild  straw- *s    » 
berries,  and  many  other  berries,  put  forth  their  bios-     * 
soms.    A  beautiful  green  began  tp  cover  their  wheat 
%  field.     The  vast  surrounding  forest.put  on  a  more 
cheerful  appearance.     Great  flocks  of  pigeons  kept 
passing  over,  and  proved  marks  for  the  rifles  of  The- 
odore and  Cato,  and  subjects  for  the  display  of  aunt 
Martha  and  Lany's  culinary  skill.     But  this  was  on- 
ly sport.  Our  farmers  had  to  be  very  diligent  in  sow- 
ing their  spring  crop. 

Ms.  Mar vi^i  now  bought  a  yoke  of  oxen,  some 


'«p 


-cows,  sheep,  and  poultry.  AH  prospelw^^  hiirf« 
Their  harvest  was  excellent.  Their  poHttiy  eticrea- 
sed.  The  cattle  thrived.  From  the  fleeces  of  the 
sheep  was  taken  a  store  of  materials  for  aunt  Mar- 
tha's occupation,  to  furnish  articles  of  winter  com- 
fort for  the  household.  Several  swarms, pf  bec^ 
which  they  procured,  multiplied  very  fast,  and  fur- 
nished an  abundant  supply  of  honey  for  home  con- 
sumption. 

The  settlers  encreased  fast  around  them.  Thh 
land  rose  in  value,  and  appearances  seemed  to  prog- 
nosticate, that  Ephraim  Marvin  would  in  a  few  years, 
be  a  much  richer  man,  than  he  had  ever  been  before. 

In  the  course  of  the  ensuing  summer,  Mr.  Marvin 
was  appointed  a  captain  of  militia ;  and  in  the  follow- 
ing year,  received  a  commission  of  the  peace.  Cap- 
tain Miirvin  now  found  himself  a  man  of  greater 
consequence  at.Tonnewonte,  than  alderman  Marvm 
had  ever  been  at  New- York. 


lii: 


^'ir 


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# 


« 


4!^. 


M-' 


■■*>- 


61 


^CHAPTER  VI. 


O  saj,  what  language  can  reveal  0 

Th*  exalted  pleasures  you  must  feel^ 
When,  fir'd  by  you,  the  youthful  breast 
Disdains  to  court  inglorious  rest. 
Ai|d  to  the  world's  admiring  gaze, 
'  '^        YCach  precept  into  action  brought^  ' 

til  fuil  reality  displays 
The  libm  ai  masiois  you  have  taught! 

RoscoB. 

^SQUIRE  Marvin  had  been  four  years  settled  at 
Tonnewonte.  He  was  now  a  man  of  substance ,  and 
had  he  been  as  near  to  market,  ^rould  scarcely  have 
yielded  to  farmer  Vanderhausen  himself.  He  had 
upwards  of  an  hundred  acres  cleared.  His  farm 
was  well  stocked,  and  he  had  ev^ry  thing  iii  plenty 
around  him.  His  outward  expenditure  was  very  lit- 
tle ;  for  his  provisions,  except  a  few  trifling  luxuries, 
were  all  raised  on  the  farm.  Every  year  some  new 
trees  of  his  young  orchard  bore  fruit;  for  he  had 
planted  it,  on  his  first  settlement,  and  had,  for  that 
purpose,  bought  the  most  tltriving  plants,  that  could 
be  procured  from  the  old  settlements  on  the  lakes. 
He  had  this  year  made  a  little  cider,  and  soon  ex- 
pected to  make  it  in  greater  abundance.  Our  new 
settlers  also  raised  flax,  and  their  sheep  supplied 
wool,  out  of  which  the  family  clothing,  bedding,  (S:c. 
was  manufactured  at  home. 

Cato  and  Lany  were  married ;  and  two  little  black 
recruits  promised  in  a  few  years,  to  assist  in  mana-  ^ 
ging  the  farm.  It  was  now  high  time  to  erect  a  more 
capacious,  and  elegant  Mansion.  Upon  Theodore's 
laud  there  was  a  good  site  for  a  mill,  on  the  same 
stream  that  ran  before  the  house.  Here  capt.  Mar- 
vin liad  caused  a  saw  mill  to  be  erected,  and  had  laid 
by  the  choicest  timber,  for  building  a  new  dwelling  5 
and  he  now  built  a  capacious  two  stoiy  frame  house, 

6 


%f^ 


i:!i 


li 


62 

on  the  eminence,  in  front  of  the  old  log  buildia|;, 
which  then  served  to  lodge  the  negroes  in.  This 
mansion  was  painted  white,  and  aUnt  Martha  had 
palisades  planted  down  to  the  hrook's  edpe.  They 
enclosed  the  flower  garden,  in  which  Evelina  and 
iier  aunt  cultivated  all  the  variety  of  Flora^^s  kin^ 
dom,  that  they  could  procure.  Cherry,  plum  and 
peach  trees  were  also  scattered  through  the*  garden, 
.^ihd  currant  hushes  planted  against  the  palisades. 
The  gigantic  chesuuts  still  remained,  overshadowing 
the  house,  and  the  whole,  from  the  opposite  side  of 
the  hrpok,  ha^l  a  very  pleasing  effect. 

Theodore  was  now  a  fiqe,  tall  youth'  of  eighteen, 
full  of  coui:?ige  and  activity,  and  Evelina  had  attain- 
ed her  thirteenth  year.  Capt.  Marvin  bestowed  aU 
his  intervals  of  leisure  on  the  education  of  this  dar- 
ling of  his  affbctions,  and  for  this  he  was  very  comr 
petent,  for  to  a  strong  mind,  and  good  abilities  which 
Ixehad  sedupusly  cultivated,  capt.  Marvin  now  join- 
ed knowledge  and  experience  of  the  world.  He 
soon  discovered  uncommon  abilities,  anjd  quickness 
of  perception  in  his  little  Evelina,  and  sufficient  so- 
lidity, to  engraft  solid  knowledge  on  her  ductile  mind. 

During  the  long  winter  ^vjenings,  Theodore  pur- 
sued, nnder  jthe  direction  of  his  benefactor,  those 
studies,  he  had  commjenced  at  the  academy.  In 
mathematics  and  hi&tory  capt.  Marvin  was  a  profi- 
cient; and  Theodore  had  made  great  progress  un- 
der his  instruction.  The  study  of  his  natiye  tongue 
had  formed  part  of  the  youth's  school  education.  He 
still  spoke  it  fluently,  and  taught  it  to  Evelina.  The 
amiable  girl  was  likewise  making  considerable  pro- 
gress in  her  education.  Jler  father  strove  to  render 
net  superior  to  the  Dears  and  littleness,  too  often  pre- 
valent in  many  of  her  sex;  and  he  thought  that  a 
mind  well  stored  with  useful  knowledge  would  teach 
i|er  to  ^onlemn  th.e  idle  tittle  tattle  and  inclination 


A^ 


•-^a* 


ibr  scandaf;  that  so  many  employ,  as  a  subterfuge  fer' 
killing  time*'  It  has  already  been  observed,  that  she' 
possessed  great  strength  and  decision  of  mind.  This, 
her  father  apprehended,  might  without  proper  cul- 
ture, degenerate  into  materials  for  forming  a  shrew. 
He  had  therefore,  from  her  earliest  infancy,  endeav- 
oured to  render  her  gentle  and  docile ;  and  he  had 
gradually  effected  his  purpose.  As  she  grew  older,; 
he  taught  her  to  regulate  and  check  all  excess  of 
temper;  and,  to  illustrate  precept  by  example,  he' 
displayed  to  her  many  instances  of  the  fatal  effects" 
of  ungovernable  temper;  and  taught  her  to  regard 
what  is  generally  denominated  getting  in  *' posses- 
sion," ,as  the  mark  of  a  w6ak  and  little  mind,  inca- 
pable of  restraining  its  (!bullitions.  Evelina  had  suf- 
licient  powers  of  intellect  to  profit  by  tliese  instruc- 
tions, and  would  have  been  as  much  ashamed  at  be- 
ing caught  in  a  passion,  as  though  sh6  had  been  guil- 
ty of  some  act  of  meanness  or  illiberality. 

Capl^  Marvin  had  brought  with  hini  a  choice  se- 
lection of  books.  To  these,  Theodora  had  unlimi- 
ted access ;  and  Evelina  read  those  that  were  re- 
commended by  her  father.  With  these  advantages, 
and  disadvantages,  our  two  youths,  reared  in  the 
western  wilds,  possessed  perhaps  more  real  inform- 
ation, than  the  most  forward  scholar,  in  any  mod- 
etn  academy. 

These  studies,  as  has  been  before  related;  were 
mostly  prosecuted  during  the  winter  evenings;  b\it 
capt.  Marvin  took  every  opportunity  of  exciting  their 
thirst  for  information;  and  aunt  Martha,  who  imbi- 
bed all  her  brotbei^s  opinions,  and  had  resusitated 
to  her  better  self,  since  she  had  sO' happily  presided 
at  Tonnewonte,  co-operated  in  all  hisp|^|brtheit' 
educatioji  and  improvement,  until  the J^i&d- grown 
*o  interwoven  with  her  own  ideas,  that  they  seem- 
ed also  to  have  emanated  from  her. 


m-' 


;■# 


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f 


64 


T'  i 


Theodore  one  cr.^ning  consulted  the  (iaptain,  o# 
the  propriety  of  studying  a  ti\  atise  on  tactics,  that 
had  fallen  into  his  hands. 

"You  do  well,  my  sort,"  sakl  his  honefactdr  "to 
prosecute  any  means  of  information,  thut  niay  fall  ia 
your  way.  ^  Though,  to  a  superficial  observer,  if 
might  appear  folly  for  a  backwoodsman  to  be  em* 
})loycd  iji  studying  tactics;  yet  a  more  reflecHng 
-mind  would  observe,  that  this  same  youth,  may  in 
some  imk  rseen  exigency,  by  the  information  thus 
acquired,  prove  of  j^^reat  btniei&t  to  himself  and  oth-i 
ers.  V\  e.  my  children,  live  in  a  country,  where  the 
meanest* citizen  may  nrpire  to  the  highest  honouj's, 
witiiout  having  his  bir?i:  commented  on  to  his  pre- 
judice. ,|n  America,  we  have  no  real  diystiction,  ex- 
cepting education;  foi^itis  one  of  the  principles  of 
onr  conslitulion,  'Th?kjfeall  men  are  bom  free  and 
equal.'  Yet,  it  is  an  equality  of  rightii,  and  not  oC 
ci-  :umstances  oi  success  in  life.  Reflect,  my  chil- 
dren, and  you  wiii  observe  a  great  difference  between* 
man  anrl  man.  This  mostly  results  from  education, 
though  vieive  have  been  exceptrions.  Some  great 
minds  have  suddenl}'  emerged  from  the  greatest  ig- 
norance and  obscurity,  into  the  most  dazzling  paths 
ofgiory;  but  such  splendid  meteors  are  rare.  We, 
my  children,  if  we  wish  to  be  prepared  to  act  with 
honour  in  every  contingency,  must  steadily  pursue 
all  the  means  of  information,  that  lie  in  our  power." 

It  was  not  only  the  mind  of  his  daughter,  that  en- 
grossed the  attention  of  capt.  Marvin.  He  wished 
l^er  to  possess  health,  bodily  activity,  and  courage. 
He,  therefore,  incited  her  to  learn  to  ride,  and  con- 
troul  the  wildest  horses,  to  run  with  swiftness,  to  ac- 
company himself  and  her  brother  (for  so  he  was  cal- 
led) in  excursions  round  the  woods,  and  to  see  with 
cajmness  the  sudden  appearance  of  any  wild  animal. 
Under  the  guidance  of  her  father,  and  of  Theod(W:e,. 


65 


r.velina  also  become  quite  dexterous  in  the  use  of 
rife  nrms.  Nor  were  her  household  acquirements 
neglected.  She  could  spin,  knit,  and  sew  with 
r  ich  Ijxterity,  and  manage  the  household  affairs 
nearly  as  well  as  aunt  Martha;  while  Theodore  was 
«§  active  and  industrious,  and  as  good  a  farmer,  as 
any  youth  in  the  western  settlements. 

The  »  ffices  of  magistrate  and  captain  of  militia, 
he(d  by  Mr.  Marvin^  necessarily  obliged  him  to  have 
onsiderable  communications  with  his  nei^bours, 
who  all  respected  him;  But  aunt  Martha  had  never 
been  fond  of  occasional  society.  The  only  compa- 
jiy  in  which  she  enjoyed  herself,  was  that  of  her  own 
family;  yet  she  received  the  visits  of  their  neigh- 
bours with  great  civility  and  complaisance :  and  oc- 
casionally returned  a  formal  visit,  upon  a  formal  in- 
vitationi  This  greatly  enhanced  the  respect  paid 
her ;  andj  in  the  minds  of  the  females  of  the  vicini- 
ty, the  idea  of  a  highly  finished  lady,  and  that  of 
Miss  Marvin  in  her  black  satin  gown,  were  so  close- 
ly blended,  it  would  have- been  difficult  to  have  sep» 
arately  analysed  them:^ 

The  young  people  were  more  sociable.     Theo- 
dore and  Evelina  often  assisted  at  quilting  parties, 
paring  frolics,  &c.  when  they  pared  the  peaches,  or 
apples,  with  equal  dispatch^  and,  after  the  allotted 
quantity  was  finished,  played  at  pawns  with  as  much: 
animation,  as  any  Miss,  or  youth  in  the  vicinity;  and 
Evelina  could  quilt  with  any  full  grown  young  wo- 
man, while  Theodore,  with  some  other  smart  beau,, 
trould  thread  the  needles;  and,  when  the  quilt  was 
roiled  up,  they  both  danced  with  the  highest  glee, 
and  greater  gentility  than  any  other  of  the  company; 
for  Evelina  was  all  native  grace,  and  Theodore,  who ' 
had  learned  to  dance  at  his  academy,  had  instruc^d 
h^s  little  sister  in  the  first  steps  of  the  art. 

One  fine  winter  evening,  the  year  after  tlif  build*-- 


ae 


i 


ing  of  their  new  house,  aur^t  Martha  was  prevailed 
on  by  her  neice,  to  accompany  her  a«d  Theodore 
to  a  husking,  at  a  wealthy  farmer's.  Theodore  bro't 
his  new  one  horse  cutter  to  the  door,  and  assisted 
aunt  Martha  to  get  in,  while  Evelina  sprang  in  light- 
ly, by  their  side. 

The  road  lay  througi  the  midst  of  the  forest;  but 
the  moon  shone  bristly,  and  its  lustre  was  reflected, 
hy  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  the  snow.  The  horse 
and  sleigh  bounded  lightly  over  the  level  road.  The 
good  Mrs.  Baxter  received  them  with  great  pleas- 
ure ;  and,  after  assisting  to  dismantle  Uiem,  in  her 
lai'ge  sitting  room,  conducted  her  guests  into  the 
roomy  kitchen,  which  was  stowed  full  of  Indian  corn, 
which  a  merry  party  was  disencumbering  of  its 
husks.     { 

Aunt  Martha  was  received  with  great  respect^ 
The  most  commodious  recess  in  the  com,  was  as- 
signed to  her,  as  a  seat;  and  they  all  again  cheerful- 
ly prosecuted  their  employment,  while  the  merry 
joke  went  round,  and  cider  and  apples  were  distri- 
Duted  as  refVeshments. 

They  very  early  finished  husking  the  heaps  of 
corn,  and  then  adjourned  to  the  sitting  room,  where 
a  large  tea-table  was  set'  out,  loaded  with  apple  pie, 
and  peach  pie,  pumpkin  pie,  and  custard  pie,  stew- 
ed apples,  and  dried  peaches  stewed;  warm  bread 
and  butter,  and  cold  bread  and  butter;  dough  nuts, 
.  and  sweet  cake,  and  cakes  of  every  description.  Of 
these  luxuries  the  guests  all  partook  heartily.  The 
table  was  then  cleared  away,  when  a  fiddler  made 
his  appearance,  and  the  younger  part  of  the  compa- 
ny merrily  danced  to  the  music. 

At  length  aunt  Martha  signified  to  Theodore,  that 
the  moon  would  soon  be  down,  and  they  had  best 
taite  advantage  of  its  remaining  light  to  return  heme. 
The  cutter  was  soon  brought  ta  the  door.    Aunt 


67 


Martha  and  EveJina  embarked,  and  with  them 
Phoebe  Ann  Anderson,  a  young  girl  who  lived  next 
to  the  Marvins,  and  whom  they  were  to  set  down  at 
her  father's. 

Theodore,  all  animation,  drove  rapidly  along, 
conversing  goily  with  the  ladies,  when  the  cutter, 
shooting  down  a  hill,  was  suddenly  checked  with 

the  shock,  and  both  its  shafts  snapped  ofTshort . 

How  to  proceed,  was  now  the  difficulty.  They 
were  stilt  tVve  miles  from  home ;  but  the  log  house 
of  a  new  settler,  was  only  at  half  a  mile's  distance. 
Theodore  first  taking  the  precaution  of  tying  the 
horse  to  a  tree,  ran  off,  promising  to  return  in  a  few 
moments  with  an  axe  and  naila^  to  repair  the  frac- 
tured shafts. 

The  night  was  cold ;  the  moon  fast  declining,  and 
the  ladies  closely  wrapt  their  cloaks  around  them^ 
with  a  wish  that  Theodore  might  soon  appear.  Sud- 
denly Phoebe  Ann  gave  a  loud  shriek,  and  covered 
her  head.  The  ouiers  gazed  eagerly  around,  but 
their  attention  was  presently  arrested  by  a  large 
bear,  that  was  advancing  towacds  them,  followed  by 
a  cubk  The  rugged  eoiimal  glared  at  them  with  fiery 
eyes.  The  shriek  had  attracted  her  attention,  and 
_  she  was  approaching  with  rapidity. 

^'She  will  devour  us,''  said  aunt  Martha,  with 
seeming  composure,  ^'there  is  no  help,  but  in  th« 
*Lord."  v^' 

Evelina  hastily  aroset  Her  foot  stumbled  over  (he 
rifle,  tlis$  Theodore  seldom  stirred  without,  on  foot, 
or  in  his  sleigh.  She  caught  up  the  gun,  and  point- 
ed it  towards  the  animal.  She  drew  the  trigger.  It 
flashed  in  the  pan.  The  bear  glared  ^riously  at 
sight  of  the  flash ;  and  growling,  approached  towards 
them.  EveKni^  caught  up  the  powder  horn,  primed 
the  piece  anew,  and  took  aim  again.  The  muzzle 
almost  touched  the  bear*    She  &Qd*   The  ball  pier- 


1:1 

iiJ 


m 

mi 


as 


feed  the  animal's  head,  and  it  fell  hawling  on  the 
ground.  Our  young  American  hastily  re-loaded  the 
piece ;  for  8he  knew  in  what  part  of  the  sleigh  The- 
odore kept  his  amunition. 

The  cub  began  licking  its  dam,  and  Evelina,  with 
the  gun  in  her  hand,  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
territic  pair. 

Theodore,  alaimed  by  the  report,  appeared  bmmd- 
ing  forward.  "The  rifle  has  then  gone. off,"  cried 
he,  "how  careless  was  I  to  load  it,  when  m  many  la- 
dies were  in  the  sleigh !  But  none  of  you  can  be  hurt ; 
for  the  muzzle  was  so  placed,  that  it' could  not  pos- 
sibly injure  ony  one  in  the  cutter." 

]i!velina  turned  tewards  bim.  "  O,  you  have  the 
gun,  Evelina.  It  was  then  a  frolic  of  yours."  She 
pointed  to  tke  bears.  "Gracious  Heaven,"  exclaim-^ 
©d  the  youth. 

"You  may  thank  God,"  said  aunt  Martha,  "whO' 
inspired  Evelina  with  courage,  to  shoot  the  wild* 
beast,  as  it  was  springing  to  seize  her." 

Theodore  cast  on  his  young  compatuon,  a  look  of 
admiration.     "My  brave  little  sister." 

"Any  person  would  have  done  the  same  in  self 
defence,"  said  the  young  girl.  "Danger  would'^ 
make  a  coward"  brave."^ 

"  It  would  rather  deprive  him  of  his  fac\ilties," 
replied  the  youth,  "but  give  me  the  gun.     The  cub» 
may  become  troublesome,  while  I  am  mending  the' 
shafts." 

He  then  shot  the  young  acnimal  througb  the  head  j 
when  it  fell  dead  by  the  side  of  its  dam.     Phoebe 
Ann  gave  another  shriek.  They  turned  to  her.  She 
was  in  violent  hysterics,  and  had  been  so,  during, 
the  whole  agitating  scene. 

The  Sorse,  accustomed  to  the  sound  of  fire  arms, 
had  not  broken  his  fastening,  although  he  had«been 
very  restless,  since  the  first  appearance  of  the  sb^g- 


C9 


^  aTiimal.  Theodore  endeavoured  to  quiet  liimi^ 
und  hastily  patched  His  shafti,  while  aun^  Martha 
and  Evelina,  by  much  soothing,  partially  recovered 
Phoebe  Ann.  TFftiy  then  drove  on,  and  leaving 
their  companion  at  ner  father^s  soon  arrived  home : 
when  Theodore,  taking  Cato  with  him,  hastened 
back,  in  a  light  sled,  for  the  slain  bears. 
>  At  breakfast,  the  following  moniine,  capt.  Mftr« 
vip  was  informed  of  the  adventure  ofthe  preceding 
night.  ^'I  am  pleased  with  your  presence  of  mind, 
my  dear  Evelina,''  Raid  he,  ^^  I  should  not^  indeed, 
like  to  see  my  daughter  an  Amazon;  but  I  wish  her 
to  possess  fortitude,  and  true  courage,  to  be  able  to 
distinguish  between  aggression,  and  self  defence; 
and  to  have  always  sufHcient  presence  of  mind,  to 
repel  any  sudden  danger,  that  may  not  surpass  her;^ 
strength." 

Sometime  after  this,  a  neighbour  came  to  infomr" 
them,  that^^  Friend  Hannah  Reeves,  from  Pluladel- 
phia,  who  was  making  a  visit  of  love,  round  th%r 
western  country,  would,  God  willing,  exhort  that 
evening,  at  Farmer  Jones'."    At  this  information,. 
Cato  was  directed  to  harness  the  two  horse  sleigh, 
and  capt.  Marvin,  aunt  Martha,  Theodore,  and  Ev-- 
elina  enr>barked^  and  dro^  e  to  the  meeting. - 

An  elderly  Quakeress  was  seated  between  two 
elders,  in  the  largest  room  in  the  house,  which  was 
nearly  tilled  with  people  of  various  appearance,  col- 
lected from  all  the  neighbourhood,  which  term  in^ 
eluded  a  circuit  of  several  rniles.> 

The  deepest  silence  reigned  in  the  apartment,, 
when  the-  female  preacher  arose,  and  delivered  a 
sensible  discourse,  strictly  scriptural.  By  degrees,, 
warmed  with  the  importance  of  the  subject,  she 
kindled  into  enthusiasm..  The  hearts  of  her  audi-^ 
ence  were  affected,  their  consciences  awakened,, 
and  many  retired  with  a  resolution  to  amend  their' 


TO 


Attire  liv«B,  ftticl  endeavour  to  makd  their  p^be 
with  Heaven* 

Our  party  entered  the  sleigh  in  a  niore  thdught- 
ful  mood,  than  they  had  left  home*  Capt.  Marvin 
Had  been  frequently  and  powerfully  awakened  ttf* 
religion,  in  very  early  life;  but  his  mind-,  naturally^ 
reserved,  was  particulaHy  averse  to  discover  its  in- 
ward workings  to  others;  so  that- as  he  advanced  in 
life,  and  had  his  attention  withdrawn  to  other  pur^ 
suits,  the  change  was  scarcely  perceived  by  his  most 
intimate  associates,  as  he  uniformly  preserved  the 
most  ri^d  morals,  and  the  greatest  propriety  of  de^ 
mieanor*  When  he  left  Connecticut^  ambition  be- 
gan to  dislodge  religion  from  his  heart*  With  tm* 
proved  opportunity,  he  explored  a  more  liberal  tield 
iOf  study;  and  experience  of  mankind  gradually  dis- 
played to  him,  many  hitherto  hidden  recesses  of  the 
buipan  heart. 

.  Thi^  Weakened  his  l>elief  in  many  things,  that  he'^ 
had  formerly  considered  as  sacred;  but,  with  the 
mists  of  superstition  j  and  trammels  of  sect,  he  drop- 
ped much  of  the  vitality  of  religion;  and  during  his 
career  of  prosperity,  was  little  more  than  in  name 
a  christian,- though  he  constantly  attended  public 
worship.  But,  often  his  retreat  to  the  wood?,  du« 
ring  the  many  hour»  of  solitude  that  he  was  obliged 
to  spend  amid  the  deep  loiielinesL*  of  the  wilderness, 
the  early  recollections  and  associations  of  his  child- 
hood returned,  with  redoubled  force,  and  he  was 
powerfully  recalled  from  nature's  works,  to  nature's 
God.  In  these  hours  of  solitude,  he  found  a  vacuum 
his  heart j  tibat  religion  alone  could  fill;  and  he 


m 


endeavoured  to  tind  her.  But  still  his  opinions  on 
the  subject  were,  like  his  personal  character,  not 
perfectly  similar  to  that  of  any  other  individual. 

No  place  of  worship  had  yet  been  built,  in  the 
settlement';    but  this  caused  little  anxiety  te  capt. 


Marvin.  He  was  content,  like  the  Israelites  in  the 
time  of  the  Judges,  ^4o  worship  God  under  the  shade 
of  his  own  fis-tree.^*  He  often  derived  much  satllfrc- 
tion  from  the  discourses-  of  itinerant  preachers,  of 
different  denominations,  who  frequently  parsed  thro' 
the  new  settlements.  Capt.  Marvin's  house  was 
always  open  for  their  reception,  and  liis  best  room 
was  occasionally  appropriated,  as  a  place  of  meet- 
ing; yet  the  owner  chose  not  tpjoinanyofthe  asso- 
ciations they  established. 

Capt.  Marvin  wished  to  infuse  religion  into  the 
hearts  of  his  pupils ;  'but  he  wished  to  establish  her 
there,  free  from  superstition  and  party  rancour.  His 
instructions  were  consequently  rather  indefinite, 
but  calculated  to  excite  the  attention  of  the  young, 
ardent  and  enquiring  minds,  that  he  was  endeavour- 
ing to  inform.  They  connected  what  their  father, 
for  whose  opinivins  they  had  a  great  respect,  taught 
them,  with  what  they  heard  from  the  different  prea- 
chers, who  came  to  the  settlement,  and  each  formed 
a  little  code  of  their  own. 

Aunt  Martha's  opinions  were  also  singular,  and 
Father  tinctured  with  her  former  close  study  of  the 
prophecies,  but  her  religion  was  sincere,  and  had 
»ow  assumed  a  much  more  cheerful  cast,  and  her 
sentiments,  originally  elevated,  had  become  more 
natural  and  consistent,  during  her  present  dwelling 
with  her  brother,  when  they  mutually  studied  to  at- 
tain the  most  efficient  mode  of  education  for  their 
Amiable  pupils. 


"72 


CHAPTER  Vn. 


*•  Blow,  ye  winds ! 

''Tp  wav^B  !  ye  thunder^  !  loll  your  tempest  on ; 
)        8h'ikp,  ye  old  pillars  of  the  oiarbie  sky! 
Then  let  (he  tiiai  come  !  ai>d  witness  then. 
If  terror  be  upon  me ;    if  1  Khrink 
To  meet  the  storm,  or  falter  in  my  stren^tb* 
When  hardest  it  foescte  me.     Du  not  think 
T'lat  [  am  fearful  and  infiroa  of  «oul, 
As  late  thy  eyes  beheld.  Akenside. 

AMIDST  these  avocations  and  amusements,  the 
•summer  arrived;  and  one  fine  morning,  a  young 
neighl)our< brought  Theodore  the  pleasing  intelli- 
gence, that  the  great  house  at  Fair-Valley  was  again 
inhabited,  and  William  Parker  arrived  with  his 
family. 

Fair- Valley  lay  about  five  miles  from  Marvin  farm. 
A  pleasant  stream  ran  through  the  midst,  which, 
after  a  few  more  windings,  emptied  itself  into  Lake 
Erie. 

Mr.  Parker,  a  merchant  from  Philadelphia,  had 
purchased  a  large  tract  ^f  land  upon  speculation. 
On  examining  his  purchase,  he  was  struck  with  the. 
'beauties  of  this  delightful  vale,  and  built  there  a 
handsome  country  seat.  He  spared  no  expense  in 
improvements  on  the  land,  which  he  retained  in  his 
rown  hands  ;  while  he  leased  out  the  reat,  on  terms 
very  advantageous  to  the  tenants,  to  induce  them  to 
settle  there.  It  was  Mr.  Parker's  delight, 'during  the 
months  of  July  and  August,  to  retire  from  business, 
and  amuse  himself  in  this  reti  gat  with  rural  employ- 
ments. During  the  last  two  summers  of  his  life, 
he  had  brought  his  nephew  William  with  him.  Mrs. 
Parker's  excessive  fondness  for  her  son  would  not 
perhaps  have  permitted  this,  but  «he  knew  his  un- 
cle was  wealthy,  and  liad  no  cliildren  ;  and,  altho' 


73 


>^iniam  was  alrea«ly  possessed  of  a  large  estate  in 
Maryland,  well  stocked  with  m^groes,  yet  tiie  pru- 
dent mother,  thought  an  accession  of  fortune  not  a 
mere  m  itter  of  inditference.  Young  Parker  was 
then  permitted  to  accompany  his  uncle  i%  Fair- 
Valley,  where  his  health  was  at  least  as  much  im- 
proved as  his  fortune  ;  for  the  bhnd  fondness  of  his 
mother  had  reared  him  in  the  greatest  delicacy. 

Mrs.  Parker  was  the  widow  of  an  opulent  plant- 
er, whose  well  cultivated  plantation  lay  on  Chesa- 
peake bay.  He  had  died  when  William  was  but  ten 
}ears  old.  The  widow  could  not  trust  her  only 
child  at  a  boarding  school.  A  tutor  was  therefore 
procured,  and  the  lad  profited  by  his  studies  as 
much  as  boys  so  situated  generally  do.  He  studied 
when  he  pleased,  and  when  he  did  not  feel  dispos- 
ed for  application,  his  mother  desired  that  he  niight 
be  excused. 

If  William,  at  eighteen,  was  not  learned,  he  was 
at  least  superlicially  acquainted  with  every  thing, 
and  when  he  chose  to  display  his  acquirements, 
would  astonish  his  mother  and  her  companion  Mrs. 
Maxwell,  with  his  surprising  erudition. 

But,  what  was  most  prejudicial  to  William,  was 
the  abject  servility  of  his  numerous  slaves,  over 
whom  lie  exercised  the  most  unbounded  despotism. 
Accustomed  to  command  in  every  thing,  he  con- 
cryived  his  will  to  be  an  indisputable  law;  and, 
though  gentle,  when  unresisted,  he  was  extremely 
irritable,  and  violent,  when  his  inclinations  were 
opposed.  Yet,  born  with  a  good  natural  disposi- 
tion, William  Parker  still  retained  many  amiable 
(pialities.  He  had  contracted  acquaintance  with 
Theodore,  during  his  occasional  residence  at  Fair- 
Valley.  William  was  extremely  fond  of  rambling 
through  the  woods  with  his  new  companion,  and 
as  fond  of  calling  at  Marvin  house.     The  family 

7 


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fxf- 

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f. 

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m^ 

ffr'M 


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ii' i 


lh='l 


11 .1' 


llicre,  so  difiercnt  from  what  he  had  hcen  accus- 
tomed to,  highly  interested  his  curiosity,  as  well  a« 
his  better  feelings.  His  emulation  was  also  excit- 
ed, to  equal  his  hack  country  friend,  and  this  spirit 
of  excitement   had  produced  on  him  much  good 

ctilBCt. 

The  elder  Mr.  Parker  had  now  bade  adieu  to  the 
hopes  and  fetors  of  this  world.     He  had  left  I'oir- 
.  A'ailcy,.  with  all  its  appurtenances,  to  William  Par- 
ker, and  his  mercantile  concerns  to  another  nephew, 
-who  had  been  bred  to  business  in  his  house. 

William  had  with  much  entreaty,  prevailed  i>n 
his  mother  to  accompany  him  to  take  possession  of 
Jiis  new  estate.  He  extolled  the  beauty  of  the  place, 
'"  and'  its  vicinity  to  the  Niagara  P'alls,  the  grand  re- 
'sort  of  fashionable  curiosity.  He  praised  the  good 
effects  this  jaunt,  would  probably  have,  in  bracing 
her  nerves,  and  fortifying  the  general  debility  ol" 
frame,  of,  which  she  was  constantly  complaining. 
Mrs.  P'arker  would  have  preierred  an  excursion  to 
some  fashionable  eastern  medical  spiing;  but  Will- 
iam would  not  be  disappointed  in  his  favorite 
scheme,  and  Mrs.  Parker  could  not  pursue  her  plan 
vuiaccompanied  by  her  son,  and  at  length,  worn  out 
by  his  importunity,  she  acquiesced,  and  the  family, 
consisting  of  Mrs.  Parker,  her  conqjanion  Mrs.  Max- 
well, who  was  a. widow,  and  a  distant  relation  of  tbe 
former,  master  William,  and  several  housel^old  ne- 
jgro^s,  had  now  arrived  at  Fair-Valley, 
^  Theodore  hastened  over  to  visit  his  friend  W^ill- 
lam,  the  latter  returned  with  ,iiim,  and  was  kindly 
received  by  aunt  Martha.  The  southern  youth  was 
much  struck  withtlie  improvement  the  last  year  had 
eliected  on  the  person  of  Evelina,  and  comphment- 
ed  her  so  highly,  that  she  blushed  with  surprize; 
for,  totall}  unaccustomed  to  fashionable  ^hyperbo- 
iism,  she  was  at  a  ios*^  '<<  conceive  his  meaning. 


if: 


IJ 


Jt  mutual  cxchaiige  of  compliments,  through  the 
medium  of  the  young  men,  passed  between  the  la- 
dies of  both  families  ;  bat  aunt  Martha  could  not.  be 
,  prev^iiled  upon  to  call  on  Mrs.  Parker. 

Early  one  line  morning,  Theodore  with  his  gun 
n\  hand,  called  at  the  Valley,  and,  after  breakfast, 
he  and  William  set  out  on  a  rambling  expedition, 
their  pockets  well  stored  with  provisoris.  They 
met  with  game,  and  were  so  eager  in  the  pursuit;' 
that  the  meridian  sun  still  found  them  in  the  forest. 

The  brilliant  luminary  was  slowly  sinking  be- 
neath the  western  lakes.  The  afternoon  had  been 
extremely  sultry.  Scarcely  a  breath  of  air  could 
be  inhaled.  Ail  nature  seemed  in  a  torpor.  The 
wild  animals  fled  to  the  highest  eminences.  There 
they  extended  their  parched  tongues  and  distended 
nostrils,  to  inhale  the  vital  principle  of  corporeal 
existence.  A  few  birds  fluttered  their  wings  high 
aloft  in  the  air,  then  sunk  involuntarily  on  the  ex- 
tended  branches  of  the  motionless  trees,  apparently 
through  want  of  capability  in  the  air  to  support 
them.  Nature  alone  was  discerned,  nature  wild, 
grand,  terrific,  undebased  by  the  petty  efforts  of  art 
to  improve  the  splendid  designs  of  the  great  Archi- 
tect of  the  universe. 

The  surrounding  stillncr.s'"  continued.  It  chilled 
the  vital  powers  of  animation,  with  a  shivering  Fcn- 
sation  of  undescribabie  sublimity.  Suddenly  Tlie-* 
oxlore  discharged  his  fowling  piece.  All  nature- 
seemed  to  start"'  into  a  chaos  of  confusion.  The 
noise  reverberated  from  rock  to  rock, in  apparently 
endless  succession.  Echo  caught  tlie  sound,  return- 
ed and  prolongued  it,  in  every  direction.  Myriads 
of  the  feathered  choirstarted,  from  the  heavy  foliage 
of  the  forest,  and  fluttered  over  the  deep  hollow, 
from  whence  the  disturbance  proceeded.  The  star- 
tled deer  bounded  through  the  glades.     The  bear 


:i\^ 


liir' 


ill 


njf>hed  irom  hlsden.  Wild  discordant  cries  encreas- 
ed  the  agitation,  and  tumult  succeeded  the  apathy, 
that  a  moment  before  seemed  to  pervade  the  sur^ 
rounding  scene^  On  the  tirst  explosion,  a  partridge 
fell  from  a  tree.  Theodore  sprang  foiward,  and 
cauglit  it  up.  ''Are  you  mad,  Theodore,"  said  Wil- 
liam, '•  to  stop  to  shoot  now  ?" 

"We  have  then  been  mad  all  day,"  said  Thea- 
dore,  as  he  paused  to  attnch  the  partridge  to  the 
bunch  of  game  that  wus  slung  over  his  shoulder. 

''But,  ha\e  we  not  game  enough?"  cried  William, 
"Hark!  is  not  that  the  howling  of  a  wolf /  He  wiil 
dif^cover  us." 

"We  have  arms  to  defend  ourselves,"  said  Theo- 
dore, loading  his  fowling  piece. 

'"Let  us  return  home,"  s^aid  Uk""  southern  youths 
''for  a  storm  is  appioaching,  and  w<3  may  perish  in 
this  wilderness;"  and  he  liastened  up  the  sleep  ac- 
clivity, that  lay  l»efore  him.  Theodore  followed 
with  a  firm  stept  and  intrepid  air.  His  black  eyes 
triione  with  the  lustre  of  excitement,  while  his  hand 
brushed  aside  the  dark  locks  from  his  sun  burnt  face, 
as,  on  reaching  aneimnence,  he  turned  to  view  the 
ifcCene  that  lay  behind  him.  His  companion  cried 
«ut,  with  impatience,  "make  haste,  Theodore,  the 
storm  is  a})proaching."  The  latter  sprang  foi-ward 
and  joined  William,  whose  tall,  slender  frame,  and 
delicate  complexion,  seemed,  as  he  leaned  against 
an  oak,  mmble  to  cope  with  the  approaching  ter- 
i^r?. 

Iheodore again  paused,  he  gazed  eagerjy  around. 
"What  a  vast,  sublime  scene,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  What  a  terriiic  one,"  said  his  light  haired  com- 
panion. 

"  How  awfully  grand  !  How  sublimely  terrific  !" 
ciied  Theodore.  '*  See  that  streak  of  light.  Ob- 
serve those  two   portentous   clouds,      'j'hey  meet 


u 


77 


and  encounter,  like  th(^  thrcltenin^';  approach  of 
two  hostile  armies,  ready  to  decide  the  fate  of  em- 
pires. They  iiioet!  They  explode!  How  awful  is 
the  roar  of  Heaven's  artillery!  The  scene  is  too 
g\c;it  for  mortal  powers.  Tt  transports  me  beyond 
this  tcrrestial  ball !" He  turned  to  his  com- 
panion, but  soon  forgot  his  entlmsiastic  rapture,  when 
he  beheld  the  livid  paleness  of  undisguised  terror, 
that  overspread  the  face,  and  trcmble<l  through  the 
limbs  of  William  Parker.  "Are  you  not  well,  my 
iViend  ?■"  cried  he. 

"Let  us  hasten  homo,  Theodore,"  said  Parker; 
and  he  ran  over  precipices,  hills  and  crags,  scarcely 
scGining  to  meet  with  any  obstacle.  Theodore,  im- 
pelled by  compassion,  kept  pace  with  him^ 

At  length,  panting  for  breath,  they  stopt>  in  a  hol- 
low, at  the  foot  of  a  steep  hill.  Theodore  gazed  a- 
round,  with  the  ardent  admiration  of  youthful  intre- 
pidity. The  scene  was  indeed  awfully  yublime. 
The  sun  had  disappeared.  The  uncertain  dimness 
of  twilight,  was  momentarily  illuminated,  by  the  vi- 
vid flashes  of  lightning,  that  played  among  the  bran- 
ches, until  the  foliage  appeared  embodied  with  the 
electric  fluid,  and  formed  a  splendid  blazing  forest. 
From  the  opposite  hill,  rushed  a  foaming  cataract, 
which  formed,  at  their  feet,  a  perpendicular  cascade, 
tliat,  illumined  by  the  lightning,  seemed  a  splendid 
sheet  of  lire.  The  dashing  of  the  waters  forming  a 
cadence  to  the  tremendous  peals  of  thunder,  that 
shook  the  hills,  while  echo  prolonged  the  intermin- 
i^Ud  sounds,  in  wild  repetition.  Sudlfenly  a  most 
violent  clap  of  thunder  burst  over  their  heads,  and 
the  rain  descended  in  torrents. 

"We  cannot  reach  home  tonigh^,''  said  William, 
Theodore  turned  towards  him,  and  was  moved  by 
the  paleness  of  his  companion's  countenance,  whirh 
another  flash  of  lightning  exposed  to  view.  His  oyei 


m 


7* 


'•;; ' 


.l!l!f 


.'!,!. 


7B 


ear^erly  soui;ht  relief,  and  another  flash  discovered 
to  him  a  cavity  in  the  rock;  when,  taking;  the  arm  of 
William,  they  entered  the  recess.  Twilight  had 
BOW  pa^ped  away;  an<l  night,  cased  in  the  deepest 
gloom,  succeeded.  The  lightning  became  less  fre- 
cjHent,  and  the  thunder  roared  more  distant  terror. 
The  youths  seated  themselves  on  the  rocky  floor  of 
their  I  elreat, 

"M  c  cannot  reach  home  tonight,"  ago  in  repeated 
Wil;;m. 

••'iiatwe  can,  with  the  earliest  dawn,'"  replied 
'ri»<.'c?r'>fe,  "and  we  may  here  pass  the  night,  safe 
a  Sid  drv.  Fortunately  we  have  refreshments  with 
us,  ^l^:^  William,  what  can  we  wish  for  more?" 

"\  ou  a!r«i  a  hrave  young  mxm,  Theodore  Marvin, 
you  fear  nothing." 

"You  are  there  mistakek.,  my  friend.  "Jc  crains^ 
Dieu,  cher  Ahner."  Yet  1  hope  that  I  may  confident- 
ly add,  "et  n'ai  pas  d'autre  crainte." 

"You  may,  indeed,"  said  his  companion,  "you 
see  nothing  but  delight,  where  others  see  but  death 
and  I  error." 

"Surely."  said  Theodore,  "the  countrymen  of  the 
immortal  Washington,  ought  to  be  familiar  with  dan- 


ger. 


'5_ 


-A  pause  succeeded. 


"Theodore."  iaid  the  blue  eyed  youth,  "I  would 
not  be  a  coward  for  an  enr  i-'re*  i  hope  I  have  not  so 
basely  degeneraled  from  our  brave  fathers,  who 
urchased  liberty  with  th  ■  '  lives. Yes,  I  could 


I 


kce  death,  unappalled,  in  defence  of  my  country; 
but  these  tn  mendous  storms  unman  me.  I  cannot 
raise  my  head,  against  the  artillery  of  Heaven.  I 
feel  as  if  supernatural  powers  were  then  leagued  a- 
gainst  man.  My  nature  recoils  from  thunder  and 
lightning  with  an  inward  unconquerable  sensation 
©f  dread." 

"it  is  an  unfortunate  malady,"  said  Theodore.- 


2/ 


79 


"Perhaps  I  owe  it  to  my  mother,"  said  William^ 
thoughtfrliy,  "you  know  how  delicate  she  is.  Her 
terrors  at  thunder  and  lightning  arc  invincible.  She 
never  restrained  them,  nor  concealed  them  from  mcr 
Brought  up  with  her,  1  imbibed  her  fears." 

"I  have  no  mother,"  ejaculated  Theodore. 

"And  your  atmt  Mirrtha  is  not  a  person  to  com- 
municate terror,"  replied  the  Mai-ylander,  "  1  be- 
lieve she  never  felt  it.  What  cotirage  have  not  your 
uncle  and  nunt  infused  into  that  little  cousin  of 
You  are  an  extraordinary  family." 


yours 

"  My  uncle  and  aunt  are^both  respectable,"  said 
Thcoddre.  "  But,  my  friend,  let  us  not  forget  onr 
(gupper.  Perhaps  you  may  make  shift,  for  once,  t6 
eat  not  only  unattended  by  your  slaves,  but  also  in 
the  dark." 

Ouryomig  backwoodsman  then  emptied  his  pock- 
ets. His  companion  followed  his  example.  Tlie 
thunder  had  ceased ;  but  the  rain  continued.  They 
eat  with  appetite ;  and,  after  drinking  the  remains  of 
a  small  flask  of  wine,  that  William  had  provided, 
they  extended  themselves  on  the  rock,  and  fatigued 
with  their  previous  exertions,  soon  fell  a  sleep. 

The  sun  was  just  emerging  from  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  the  lakes.  Its  first  rays,  striking  the  rain 
drops,  seemed  to  transform  them  into  as  many  gems, 
when  our  two  youths  appeared  on  a  large  wind-fall, 
that  formed  a  rustic  bridge  across  a  swollen  brook. 
They  darted  foward  along  a  narrow  path,  th^t 
wound  through  the  forest.  Theodore  seemed  all 
elasticity.  William  proceeded  gaily  along;  but 
the  redness  of  his  eyes  shewed  that  he  had  slept  the 
preceding  night  on  a  harder  couch  than  he  was  ac- 
customed to.     They  paused  near  a  clearing. 

"Will  you  come  and  breakfast  with  me?"  said 
William. 

"  You  had  better  come  with  me,  and  partake  cf 


I 

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iri. 


ik'''-' 


-4ome  refrcslimcnt  at  our  house,"  replied  his  Com- 
panion, "a  few  minutes  will  bring  us  there.  We 
have  already  travelled  several  miles  this  morning; 
for  our  yesterday's  sport  led  us  a  long  circuit.  A 
cup  of  codec  will,  I  think,  be  very  refreshing,  ami 
enable  you  to  return  at  your  ease,  to  Fair- Valley." 

**  But,  my  mother,  I  am  now  very  anxious,  lest  my 
last  night's  absence  should  have  alarmed  her.  Per- 
haps ^he  has  not  been  sensible  of  it ;  but  should  I 
not  appear  at  breakfast,  her  alarm  will  know  no 
bounds." 

'^True,  William,  hasten  home,  and  I  must  also  re- 
lieve my  friends  from  whatever  anxiety  they  may 
have  experienced  on  my  account." 

The  youtihs  were  moving  forward,  when  a  negro 
appeared  on  horse  back. 

"  Oh,  massa  William,  massa  William!  datbe  you, 
mdced;  tank  God!  tank  God!" 

"Why!  What  is  the  matter  Dominic  ?" 

"  You  be  thcii  alive,  massa  William  ?  All  the  fam- 
ily fear  very  much  to  find  you  dead." 

"And  my  mother?" 

"Oh,  misse  no  know  you  be  gone,  all  Jiight.  The 
storm  frighten  misse  to,  dat  she  go  to  bed ;  but  misse  * 
Maxwell  afraid  that  misse  ask  for  you, .   She  send 
me  most  every  where.  They  be  gone  all  night.  Mis- 
se Maxwell  up  early.     She  say  to  me,  I  can't  rest, 
Dominic.      Misse  will  soon   awake;    take  horse,, 
Dominic ;    hurry  to  massa  Marvin,  and  see  if  massa ' 
William  be  there.^     So  here  you  be,  tank  God..i 
Gome  massa  WiHiam,  hurry  home." 

"Good  morning,  Theodore,"  said  the  young  Ma- 
rylaiider,  as  he  mounted  the  horse.  "Dominic,  yoa 
may  follow  at  your  leisure.^' 

Theodore  hastened  through  the  woods.     In  a  field  - 
near  the  house,  Gato  was  at  work.     "  God  bless  yor^, 
luassa  Theodore,"  said  the  negro,  as  his  young  mas- 


WT' 


at 


^^    ^a^. , 


tcr  approached.  The  youth  paused.  *1t  does  me 
good  to  see  you,  this  morning,  mas<ia;  forldouH 
know  how,  but  my  mind  somehow  misgave  me,  when 
I  hear  it  storm  so  terribly,  and  you  not  at  home;  but 
we  all  tink  you  be  gone  to  stay  wid  massa  William, 
at  Fair- Valley." 

"  Then  the  family  are  not  nneasy  on  my  account?" 

"Not  great  deal  uneasy;  but  misse  Evelina  tp 
very  early  this  morning.     She  seem  uneasy." 

"The  atFectionate  girl,"  said  Theodore,  hurryinj^ 
forward  towards  the  house.  In  a  moment,  he  was 
over  the  rustic  bridge,  had  crossed  the  front  garden, 
and  was  at  the  door.  Evelina  stood  there.  Her 
features  were  not  rcf^ular.  A  statuary  would  not 
have  termed  her  handsome;  but  sensibility  and  vi- 
vacity beamed  through  her  dark  blue  eyes,  and  gave 
an  inexpressible  grace  to  her  person.  Her  auburn 
hair  escaped  from  the  comb  that  wns  intended  to 
confine  it,  and  flowed  in  natural  ringlets  over  her 
shoulders.  Her  complexioQ  had  lost  jsome  of  its  ori- 
ginal delicacy,  by  fre(iuent  exposure  in  the  open  air, 
and  her  cheek  was  pale,  but  the  softened  hue  of  the 
rose  was  often  lighted  there,  and  as  (juickly  evapo- 
rated. She  was  simply  habited,  but  there  was  more 
grace  than  rusticity  in  her  appearance.  Her  coun- 
tenajice,  as  Th'iodore  sprang  and  embraced  her,  tur- 
ned still  more  pale;  then  was  as  suddenly  overcast 
with  the  hue  of  pleasure.  "Ah,  Theodore,  you  are 
then  safe,  my  brother  ?" 

"Surely  Evelina  has  not  been  uneasy  on  my  ac- 
count. What  had  I  to  apprehend!  No  danger  was 
near," 

"Do  you  think  1  could  rest,  when  my  only  broth- 
(M-  was  exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  a  tremendous 
stonn  /" 

"And  since  when  has  Evelina  grown  such  a  cow- 
ard?" 


i 


•1,1 


m 


tf.| 


32 


'  I 

! 


[yt 


**1t  is  flue,  Theodore,  thai  my  nerves  arc  morf 
firmly  strung,  than  those  of  females  generally  ^rcj 
and  nature  has  not  inspired  my  soul  with  a  great 
susceptibility  of  fear.  My  father  and  aunt  Martha, 
have  strengthiened  this  happy  combination,  by  their 
example  and  instruction.  They  'have  taught  us  to 
fear  God.  This  is  sufficient;  for  we  know  that  no- 
thing can  happen  to  us,  but  through  the  permission 
of  the  divine  Arbiter  of  the  Universe,  who  is  infmite- 
ly  merciful,  and  will,  in  the  end,  produce  good  from-^ 
evil ;  but,  Theodore,  I  can  feel  all  this  myself;  but 
can  I  calmly  reason  thus  on  the^  fate  of  another, 
when  that  other  is  in  imminent  danger ;  at  least, 
what  appears  danger  to  my  imagination,  and  that 
other,  with  my  father,  and  aunt,  the  only  interesting 
objects  of  my  affections  ?" 

"My  little  philosopher  speaks  well,"  said  the 
youth  tenderly, 

"I  am  young,'^  replied  Evelina,  "and  can  only 
respect  the  precepts  I  have  been  taught ;  yet  I  think 
th^t  I  can  feel  them  too." 

Aunt  Martha  now  madeher  appearance.  "Good- 
morningj  Theodore.  You  have  then  retumeck   You   : 
spent  the  night  at  Fair-Valley?" 

"No,  aunt  Martha,  it  was  passed  in  a  cave." 

"Indeed!  and  were  vou  alone?'' 
'    ^'William  Parker  v;as  with  mei" 

"It  is  good,  Theodore,  to  experience,  sometimes, 
such  difficulties;  for  in  youth,  we  cannot  conjecture 
what  our  more  advanced  age  may  be  exposed  to; 
yet,  had  I  known  you  were  out  in  the  forestj  during 
the  violent  storm  of  last  night,  1  should  ha^c  felt 
much  anxiety  on  your  account." 

"We  were  well  sheltered,  aunt  Martha;  for  we 
found  a  very  convenient  cave,  in  which  we  slept  dry 
and  comfortal^ly ;  and  I  never  felt  better  in  my  lifcv 
than  I  do  at  present." 


IVI 


-fm* 


i>  e'^ 


83 


^•Tt  gives  nic  pleasure,  Theodore."  replied  aunt 
Marthii^  ^' to  hear  that  you  can  bear  !»uch  depriva- 
tions without  detriment  to  your  health;  but  I  should 
have  thought  that  the  dehcate  manner  in  which  Mr. 
P;uker  has  been  reared,  would  have  render'  nC 
poor  accomodations  of  your  £ave  very  incon  'il 

to  him." 

"He  had  not  time  to  think  of  that,  dear  aiiu  .jv 
ho  was  the  first  to  fall  asleep,  and  1  was  not  many 
minutes  awake."  • 

"Fatigue  is  indeed  the  hest  couch-maker,"  said 
aunt  Martha,  "but  come  in.  My  bvolheris  waitmg 
breakfast,  which  will,  1  think,  not  prove  unaccep- 
table to  Theodore." 

Mrs.  Parker  was  seated  on  the  piazza  the  follow- 
ing morning,  enjoying  the  cooling  breeze,  when  Wil- 
Ti'din  hastily  approachcil,  carrying  his  fowling  piece. 

"When,  mother,  are  you  to  pay  ^our  tirst  visit  to 
Mr.  Marvin's /"enquired  the  son. 

"  Why,  William,  am  I  not  a  stranjijer  here?  And 
is  it  not  their  duty  first  to  call  on  m<^  /" 

"You  forget,  mother,  that  Miss  Marvin  is  loo  old 
(o  walk  five  miles,  for  a  morning  call,  and  that  she 
no  longer  rides  on  horseback.  They  keep  no  car- 
jitiges,  and  her  niece  is  too  young  to  pay  a  visit,  un- 
accompanied by  a  chaperone.  And,  mother,  did 
not  Miss  Marvin  send  her  compliments  by  her 
Jicphew,  and  that  she  would  be  very  happy  to  see 
you  at  tlieir  house,  and  entertain  you  in  the  best 
manner  she  could." 

"An  old  maid  and  a  child  are  then  the  only  com- 
pany in  our  reach,  at  this  blessed  seat  of  yours,  Wil- 
liam/" 

"As  for  company,  madam,  there  are  seveml  very 
genteel  families  witliin  a  dozen  miles  of  us,  autl  you 
have  excellent  hoi"?es;  but,  believe  me,  you  will 
iind  nosociety  so  agreeable  as  that  of  the  Marvin's, 


r 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


l^|Z8     |2.5 

■"IS 


2.0 


18 


1.25   |||.4   III  1.6 

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6" 

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


•NJ 


I' 


■4.  V 


S4 


■■\ 


They  are  none  of  your  common  place  folks.  Wm 
Marvin  is-  iuiclligeni  and  respectable.  Capt;  Mar- 
vin is  anmn  of  consequence  in  these  part^.  You 
h^e  seen  Theodore;  but,  ah  mother,  you  hayeney- 
€?t' seen  Evelina." 

fl  must  then  see  Evelina,"  said  Mrs.  Parke?,  "iwe 
wilFgo  to-morrow."  '■'^- 

■'■'  j  "  1  shall  then  present  your  compliments,  mother, 
ai  I  call  for  Theodore,  and  say  that  you.will  to-mor- 
fpw  do  yourself  the  pleasure  of  callingon  Miss^Mar- 
vih,"  said  William  hastening  down  the  steps. 

*'  William,  William,"  cried  his  mother,  '^you  will 
T#urn  to  dinner ;"  but  William  was  out  o[  sight. 

The  following  day,  a  pleasure  wagon,  contain- 

'ih2  Mrs.-Papker,  her  son  and  Mrs.  MaxweH,  tt&d 

Jt       dnven  by  a  negi'o,  stopt  at  Marvin  house.     They 

%i^ere  expected.     Capt.  Marvin  and  Theodore  band- 

Jk  #«ed  the  ladies  out,  while  aunt  Martha  and  Evelina 

received  them  at  the  door.     The  first  compliments 

^  ^      orver,  Mrs.  Parker  felt  embarrassed  with  the  brother 

and  sister,  and  turned  round  with  a  sensation  jof^e- 

#        lief  to  the  pre-possessing  appearance  of -^the  young 

#  Evelina. 

After  due  praisehad  been  bestowed  on  the  house, 

farm,  &c.  mostly  by  the  obsequious  Mrs.  Maxwell^ 

**  You  Hve  very  retired,"  said  Mrs.  Parker. 

^  '"  Yes,  Madam,"  replied  aunt  Martha.     '*  I. have 

'  little  communication  with  the  settlers,  exceptiDg 

^  the  mutual  offices  of  neighborly  kindness,  that  pass 

between  us.     But  my  brother  has  more  intercourse 

with  our  neighbors,  and  tlie  young  people  are  more 

^cial." 

"There are,  I  fear,  but  few  genteel  families  in 
ti^^eighborliood,"  observed  Mrs.  Parker,  **  you 
were  fkfobably  ignorant  of  that  circumstance,  Capt. 
Marvin,  wFien  you  formed  an  establishment  here." 
*'  Wc  made  no  enquiry  ^,^ie  subject,"  replied  the 


-t 


«i  .V''' 


J 


B5 


3|n«» 


captain.    ^But,  IMBsi  MIfrvin,  are  you  not  ibnd 
companj  P^A-  woman^f  My,  versed  in^  the  c 
caption  i»f  the  world,  may  well  have  loot  all  refis^ 
for  promiscuous  society,  especially  when  enjoying' 
as  mucliluLppiness  a»l  do,  in  the  hosom  of  our  oif||it^^ 
family,"  replied  the  maiden.     ''  You  possess  a  treirp. 
sure,"  said  her  visitor,  '*1n  your  toiiable  niece,  wlUiJ, 
will  soi^  be  of  sufficient  Ige  to  share  your  conn^ 
fidence.^  ,  1"^ 

"  Our  children,"  replied  Miss '  l^arvin^  "  hav<^J' 
indeed  be^  a  great  source  of  satisfaction  to  lajf^ 
brother,  and  myself^     Evelina  is  verging  fast  ^<*4j' 
wards  W'Oinanhood.    She  will  soon  have  completed 
her  fpulfteenth  year."  y. 

"Would  i  had  a  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Parker.* 
"  Her  company  wdUld  be  a  great  relief  to  the  irk*^ . 
someness  of  solitude,  in  which  I  have  to  spend  so 
much  of  my  time." 

"  You  generally  live  in  the  country  ?"  observed 
^unt  Martha.  ^ 

"  Yes,  Mfl^dam,  I  was  brought  up  on  a  plantation,' 
and  only  removed  from  my  fathei%1||puse,  to  that  of    # 
my  hu^and.     I  bu^  seldom  visit  cities,  and  then  ^'c^ 
return  home  with  much  satisfaction ;  for  it  is  there  ^^  fl 
I  most  feel  my  consequence.     At  hoiAe  every  one* 
looks  up  to  me,  and  I  then  feel  in  my  element." 

"  II  is  true,"  said  Capt.  Marvin,  "  that  a  long  fa? 
mtliari^  with  one  mode  of  life,  renders  a  cohbS^u* 
ance  of  it  almost  indispensable.  This  demolistraites 
the  propriefy  of  accustoming  children  betiiiles  to 
what  is  most  consonant  with  reason.  Which,  through 
the  force  of  habit,  will  in  the  sequel,  prove  to  them 
the  most  agreeable." 

Mrs.  Parker  seemed  always  at  a  loss  for  an  an- 
swer to  both  brother  and  sister^  The  wide-rangfc 
of  their  ideas  were  so  dissmiilar  to  her  own,  it  re^ 
quired  so  much  effort  in  hereto  answer  them,  that 

8 


"^'■,1 

;■** 


«i^ 


*♦'■ 


^i 


■*»* 


dd 


f. 


c 


ll 


1  %v 


I 


f^  shrui^k  from  the  atteiUjpt.    She  now  looked  at 
«r  wttbpi  Mid  arose  to  depart,  expr&iiig  a  po-^ 
p9  deiire  for  a  continuance  of  the  acqumtance, 
§nd  offering  to  send  tlif' carriage,  whenever  the  la- 
ike%  could  make  it  conv^lent  to  visit  Fair- Valley. 
Auut  Martha  confined  herself  to  one  or  two  formal 
vi!(it8,  hut  Evelina*  was  more  social.     Her  vivadty 
highly  amused  thejga|j|thern  lady,  who  foupid  Jier 
rare  remarks  %|V(f  l^nfeent  hilarity,  a  very  effica- 
cious remedy  ^i|^tii^'*9        ^  complaint  to  which 
t^e  ^ood  lady  1M|»  very  subject.     Theodore  and 
JEvelms^were  likewise  permitted,  by  Capt.  Marvin, 
,,tp  accomnany  their  southern  friends  to  view  the  Ni^ 
.  ftgara  Fsiils,  and  also  to  make  with  them  deveral 
iither  excursions.     This  gave  oup  young  people,  as 
;  their  fatlier  had  foreseen,^  a  littlfe  more  knowledge 
^  of  the  world,  and  of  genteel  society. 

In  the  beginning  of  August,  the  Parkers  return- 
ed to  ]V(aryland,  Our  young  people  felt  a  va- 
^  cuum  in  their  min^  at  the  depsgrtureofth^ir  south- 
ern* friends.  Tpne  fr^q|uent  visitft  had  greatly 
,  withdrawn  theg|||^  their  usual  avo^tions ;  they 
found  it  extrem^y  Irksome  to  realime  their  oufitom- 
ary  routine,  and  they  no,w  fiplt  /•  ^ssed  with  an 
unusual  weight  of  listlcn^ss.  ,^ 

Capt.  Marvin  had  not  interru^ilr  the  preced- 
ing dissipation.  He  had  b^eu  pleased  at  observing 
1^  ney  source  of  innocent  amusement,  opened  for 
Ms  darhng  daughter  and  adopted  son.  He  did  not 
dread  their  acquir£bg  habits  of  idlene^ ;  for  , the 
stay  of  their  ojpulent  friends  was  to  be  very  tran-^ 
sient,  and  he  (oresaw  that  thev  would  return,  from 
Hvs  interval  of  dissipation,  with  encreased  eager- 
ness, to  thei^  usual  pursuits  and  employments,  when 
the  attraction,,  that  withdrew  them,  had  ceased. 

He  now  took  no  notice  of  their  listless  demeanor 
and  ap|>arent  ^nui:    but  wished,  by  letting  them 


m 


,%-• 


87 


perceive  the  weight  of  idleness,  to  attach  them  the 
more  jlifnly  to  steady  pursuits  and  constant  Oui- 


.  4- 


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'm 


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'jfiteui'i;.    .    _-.jji^ 


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m- 


IfB, 


CHAPTER  VIIL 


Lims  ii  It  8ioe«.|  saw  htm, 
''  Bttltlal»bai  nothing  blarr'd  tboie  lines  of  favour^ 
VVipl  IlifP  be  wor* ;  the  snalcbes  in  blst^ice, 
And  burst  oT  speeking  were  as  his." 

Thou  dost  approTe  Uij^siBlf  the  very  saaM  t 
*'  Thy  name  well  fits  thy  faith;  Uiy  faith,  thy  name. 
Wilt  take  thy  chance  with  ii«e  f  I  will  not  say, 
Thou  «halt  \St  so  well  master*d ;  but  be  sure^ 
No.  less  beloT'd." 

SBAUBFKARBi 

BUT  the  business  of  the  farm  soon  engrossed: 
the  attention  of  Theodore.  Evelina  opce  more 
occupied  herself  contentedly  in  household  affairs. 
Winter  returned,  and  they  again  partook  of  the  ruS' 
tjc  aniusexnents  of  the  new  settlers,  in  which  lar 
Sour  and  diversion  were  blended  together;  and 
now,  by  the  advice  *of  Mr.  Marvin,  Theodore  began 
to  clear  a  spot  on  his  land,  which  was  to  be  sown 
the  next  season,  and  the  crop  disposed  of  for  his 
own  private  emolument.  He  was  likewise  to  plant 
an  orchard,  and  tQ. Continue  gradually  clearing  his 
knd,  that  it  mi^ll^jprepared  when  he  should  wish 
to  form  an  estaBviMikcirt  ibr  himself.  He  had,  witk 
the  assistance  orCato,  who  was  always  ready  and 
wiUing  to  help  his  young  master,  cleared  twenty 
acres  during  the  winter ;  and  the  negrp  was  to  have 
a  new  suit  of  Sunday  clothes,  a  gowtl  for  his  wife^ 
Lany,  and  a  smart  suit  for  little  Pompy^  who  had 
likewise  lent  his  assistance,  out  of  th^  produce  of 
massa  Theodore's  first  harvest. 

Encouraged  by  these  brilliant  expectations,  they 
laboured  diligently  to  sow  both  farms.  It  had  been, 
a  fine  day,  in  the  month  of  May.  Theodore  and 
Cato  were  very  assiduously  employed,  in  finishing 
to  harrow  a  field  of  grain.    The  sun  was  gradually 


-  •** 


"»  «" 


they 
been. 

and 
shing 
ually. 


89 


I 


obscured*  Thiei  cloudl  collected,,  and  became 
dark  and  portentous.  Little  Pompy^ifho  rode  the 
horse,  cried  out,  "  Ah  thassa,  see  it  rafer*  ^  True," 
said  Theodore,  '^  but,  before  wc  go-home,  we  must 
finish  this  row.''  But,  before  they  had  finished,  the 
rain  descended^  in  torrents.  They  left  the  field; 
but  there  was  no  shelter,  nearer  man  Capt.  Mar- 
vin's house.  They  hastened  towards  home,  while 
the  darkness  encreased^  so  that  they  could  scarcely 
discern  each  other.  Pompy  sat  on  the  horse,  The- 
odore walked  by  his  side.  Presently  they  heard  the 
sound  of  approaching  steps.  A  voice,  in  broken 
English,  cried  out,  ^'goodnight  zirs!  can  you  shew 
us  the  way  to  some  Hotel?  No  great  Hotel  in  these 
forests.^  to  be  zure,  but  some  place  where  we  may 
eat,  aifid  sleep,  for  de  storm  be  very  hard." 

"You  are  probably  a  stranger,"  said  Theodore. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  another  voice,  in  good  Engli^, 
though  wi  th  a  foreign  accent.  "  We  are  strangers,^ 
passing  through  your  country,  to  visit  the  Niagara 
falls.  Our  horses,  guide  andlMSFf  ants  are  at  Tonne- 
wonte  village.'  Coupt  i.ftl^^nburg  and  myself 
were  inclined  to  try  j^^uf^  pigeop  shooting ; 
and  so  strolled  out  this  aiiinioon,  only  attend- 
ed by  Pierre,  to  carry  our  fowling  pieces.  We  have 
been  overtaken  by  ^e  storm^  and  have  tost  ollr 
way.  Will  you  oblige  us,  by  pointing  out^  where 
we  can-  procure  lodging  for  the  night." 

"There  is  no  public  house  in  the  neighbour- 
hood ;"  said  Theodore ;  "  but  F  am  certain  that  my 
uncle  will  behappjr  to  accommodate  you,  ify^u  will 
accompany  us  httme." 

"  We  accept  your  offer,  with  thanks,."  said  the 
Fast  spoken  stranger.  They  all  walk- 

ed forward  t<]^eflier,  Pompy  bringing  up  the  rear, 
on  the  plough  horse.  The  rain  fell  too  fast  for  vol- 
untary conversation.    Silently  tliey  pursued  on  find 

8* 


W 


,  .2-;: 


m 


do 


.# 


# 


4rj 


a  few  moments  brought  them  to  the  door  of  che 
farm  house.    The  blaze  of  a  cheerful  (ire  gUmmer- 
cd  through  the  )ultchen  windows.     Theodore  open- 
ed the  door.    Capt.  Marvin  was  seated  by  the  fire- 
side.    EveUna  was  preparing  supper^  while  aunt 
Martha  and  Lany  were  busily  employed  in  house* 
hold  affairs.     Theodore  entered.     The   travellers 
followed.     Capt.  Marvin  arose  at  the  sight  of  stran- 
gers,  Theodore  turned  round  to  view  his  compan<» 
Tons.     A  very  prepossessing  and  genteel  y^ung  man, 
with  animated  dark  eyes,  ^tood  foremost.     His  com- 
panion YFM  a  fair  complexioned  youth,  of  noble 
mien,  with  a  rich  cap  on  'his  liead,  bound  with  a 
ffolden  band.      Their  servant  Pierre,  with  a  very 
honest  countenance,  though  observant  eye,  stood 
!  modestly  by  the  door.     The  whole  appearance  of 
the  trio  was  decidedly  foreign,  but  from  what  coun- 
try, our  back  settlers  could  not  immediately  deter- 
mine. 

Theodore  spoke ;  "These  gentlemen  have  lost 
their  way  in  the  woo^ds,  andl  have  brought  them 
here,  uncle,  to  claim  your  hoBpitality." 

"  You  did  right,  Theodore,"  said  Capt.  Marvin. 
"  Gentlemen,  you  are  welcome.  Will  you  approach 
the  fire?" 

'*We  accept  your  courtesy  with  thanks,  said  the 
■vtaUer  stranger.  The  heat  of  the  fire  is  grateful; 
%r  the  rain  has  quite  soaked  our  gpirments."  Say- 
ing this,  h?  took  the  chair  offered  h|m  by  Gapt.  Mar- 
vin. 'The  other  stranger  had  turned  his  eyes  very 
iixed^i>n  Theodore ;  but  he  now  approaced  the  fire, 
and  accepted  a  seat. 

"  Vou  must  change  your    clothes,  Theodore," 
said  nufit  Martha,  "or  vou  will  certainly  take  cold." 
"  ShaS  we  accommodate  you,  gentlemen,  with  a 
change  of  clothes  ?"  said  Cfapt.  Marviti. 

The  younger  stranger  accepted  tl\e   offer,  with 


very 
[6  fire, 


»  ,r. 

91 


X 


X 


many  polite  apologies  for  the  trouble ;  when  their 
host  took  a  candle,  and  conducted  his  guests  into 
another  room,  where  they  werft  4^rnished  with 
dry  garments ;  and  Theodore  hastened  to  his  own 
room,  to  change  himself.  The  third  stranger 
then  drew  near  the  kitchen  fire,  and  aunt  Martha  of-- 
fared  him  a  diy  coat.  ^'  No  tank  you  ma^am,  hut 
Pierre  Schofbury  not  mind  trifle.  Dis  be  good  fire, 
and  I  soon  be  very  dry." 

A  cheering  fire  was  now  kindled  in  the  best  par- 
lour, and  a  (Sentiful  supper.prepared,  of  which  the 
strangers  partook  with  the  family.  After  the  table 
>vas  removed,  Cato  renewed  the  fuel,  and  retired  .to 
the  kitchen,  where  he  endeavoured  to  draw  Pierre 
into  conversation,  who  was  nothing  loth  to  chat 
with  him. 

The  storm  continued  without.  The  rain  batter- 
ed against  the  window.  The  company  in  the  par- 
bur  contracted  their  circle,  around  the  social  hearth. 

"  I  understand,  gentlemen,'^  said  Capt.  Marvi^n, 
wishing  to  introduce  a  conversation,  '^that  you  .ui- 
tend  visiting  the  Niagara  falk.'^ 

"  Our  principle  intention  in  coming  to  America,"" 
said  the  fair  complexfoned  stranger,  ''was  ta visit 
that  far-famed  cataract,  and  ascertain  the  truth  of 
the  magnificent  and  sublime  description  given:  of  it 
by  tourists." 

"  The  prospect  will  well  reward  the  pains  you 
have  taken  to  see  it,"  said  Theodore. 

''Will  it  indeed,"  said  the  stranger,  ^la  eyes 
brightening  with  pleasure.    "  f  f  it  but  appMeh  the 
description  given  of  it  by  travellers,  f  shalTnQt  re- 
.  gret  my  visit  to, America." 

"  Count  Leuchenburg,."  said  the  •  daik  ey^d 
stranger,  ^^is  enthusiastically  fond  of  the  picar- 
esque, I  tell  him  en  badinage,  that  he  is  afflicted 
with  the  cataract  mania." 


..■K     ..tf 


.,         «* 


98 


**  It  is  thus,"  exclaimed  the  count,  ^'  that  Mon- 
sieur Le  Vicomte  de  Lunerille  treats  my  taste  for 
the  gublime/' 

The  young  Vicomte  smiled  archly.  His  eyes 
met  those  of  Theodore.     He  started. 

*' Certainly  gentlemen,  you  are  not  natives  of 
this  wilderness  ?  Your  manners  betray  too  much 
knoirledge  of  the  world,  for  that  suppoijltion." 

^Six  years  will  soon  have  elapsed,  since  I  first 
tetiiei  here,"  said  Capt.  Marvm,  ^^  but  I  formerljP 
resided  in  New- York."  / 

'*  Indeed!"  said  de  Luneville,  *' and  this  engaging"'^ 
young  ladj^,  and  this  gentleman  are  vour  children  !v 

"They  are,"  replied  Capt.  Marvm. 

"  I  must  compliment  you,"  said  the  stranger,  "  by 
observing  that  this  young  lady,  lovely  a9  she  is, 
greatly  resembles  her  father;  but  I  see  no  family 
resemblance  in  the  brother.  He  probably  is  lil&e 
his  mother  ?"^ 

"  I  do  not  remember  the  looks  of  my  mother,'* 
said  Theodore.  "  You  must,then,  have  lost  her  very 
young,"  observed  the  stranger  ?  "  She  was  prob%bly 
of  French  extraction,  fbr  your  fkmily  appear  Amer^- 
ican,  and  your  features  are  decidedly  French." 

"  You  must  then  be  also  French,"  said  Evelina  ^ 
<<for  your  features,  your  smile,  and  even  the  sound 
of  your  voice,  remind  me  of  my  brother." 

"Do  they  indeed?  exclaimed  de  Luneville. 
Excuse  my  seeming  rudeness  j  sir;  but  is  this  yotii^ 
gentleman  in  reality  your  son  ?  I  think,  on  ouf  eri- 
tvance,  4ie  called  you  uncle.^" 

"  Theodore  is  my  adopted  son,"  replied  Capt. 
Marvin.  "  Pardon  my  impertinence,  said  the  stran^ 
ger;  but  I  beg  to  l)e  permitted  to  enquire,  if  he  be 
related  to  you  ?" 

"  I  know  not,  sir,  what  mdtiTes  may  aibtuate  your 
enquiries,"  replied  Capt*  lil&rvin.    "Thecircum- 


^f 


9' 


i|^ces  Cbat  inivodiiced  T|^odore  ipto  mj  ftmityi 
are  not  kn<fwn  out  of  it*^  , 
#  The  young  Vicomtt  iMined  greatly  ag^ted. 
^  W«  are  •traft|^rB,"sal<l  tir^ehaTe  not  beeiilliree 
w^OoIes  in  America,  and  Irat  fhia  uMirmng  arri^^  at 
Tonne wonte.  I  can  Ihercfore  be  actuated  by  no 
improper  motive,  inreapectto  you;  but  I  beseech' 
you,  sir,  to  rdate  the  circumstances  ta  whicMyou 


■^: 


%■ 


allude^W 

Ckpt  MaKtin  oast  a  penetrating  glance  it  life 
strangers.  **The  account,"  said  he,  "is  n^^fll- 
graceful  to  the  youth,  nor  to  myself^  Why,mn9 
need  I  hesitate  to  mention  it."  He  then  recounj^a 
the  manner  in  which  Theodore  was  coufided'  to  Ins 
pro^tion.  The  strangers  listened  with  profound 
attentioill  He  paused.  Pe  Luneville  sprang  from 
/bis  seat,  and  se&ed  his  hand|  "  generous  straneer^. 
cri^dhe,  wegannot  express  the  gratitude,  we  Tear 
for  your  disinterested  kindness,  l^lodore  embrace 
your  brother!" 

The  youth  was  astonished ;  but  nature  asserted 
hejrsway,  and  the  brothers  were  clasped  in  each 
%tiken  BTtm,  '^  Count  de  Leuchenburg,"  cried  the 
Vicomte,  '*  congratulate  me.  J  have  found  my  brc^ 
ther,  and  he  appears  worthy  of  our  iamily.  This 
is  Theodore  de  Clermont." 

The  Count  arose,  and  embraced  Theodorr*^ 
^  Young  gentleman,"  said  hi^  "I  am  your  cousin,  and 
iam  proud  of  the  relation,  for  your  appearance 
wlUrnqt  disgrace  the  noble  race  de  Clermont,  and 
tlnpdarquis  de  Beaucaire'wiil  be  proud  of  ms  re- 
co^red  son." 

"  I  have,  then,  a  faih^r  ?"  exclaimed  llieQdore. 
"  You  have  a  noble  father,  and  sr^orthy  o^,  re- 
plied Count  Leuchenburg." 

Capt.  Marvin  cast  a'sorrowfol  glanCe  at  his  adopt- 
ed son.    T^  you&  c^iM^rv^  it,  and,  hastily  taking 


•  I 


I 


--? 


94 


his  hand,  <<  O  my  fath^!  yon  hava  hot  loll  a  soil,  I 
am  still  yours.  Never  shall  tha  child  of  vour  chan- 
ty foiget  the  generous  hand  that  reared  him,  tlat 
always  conducted  itself  towards  him  with  suchuni* 
ibna  liberality,  such  unparalleled  magnanimity." 

Capt.  Marvih,  .though  little  accustomed  to  out- 
ward demonstrations  of  affection,  now  embraced 
the  child  he  had  reared  as  his  own.  **  My  son," 
said  he,  with  strong  emotion —  ^; . 

Aunt  Martha  had  listened  patiently  to  al)  fhathad 
passed.  The  whole  mortal  affections  of  her  soul 
i^erc  concentrated  in  these  three  objects  of  her  at- 
tachment ;  and  now  appearances  seemed  to  indicate 
that  she  was  about  to  lose  one  of  those  tics  that 
bound  hef  to  the  world.  Every  other  sensation 
was  absorbed  ia  this,  ''Theodore,"  pried  she, 
"  surely,  mjr  son,  you  will  not  leave  us  ?" 

*'  Impossible,"  exclaimed  the  youth. 

"  But  my  bit>ther,  we  have  a  father,  an  aged  far- 
ther," said  de  Luneville,  ^*  whe  pines  to  ii^Qipver 
his  long  lost  son  t"  ? 

"I  must  €ee  my  father,"  cried  Theodoi^. 

Evelina  had  hitherto  been  absorbed  with  sur- 
prize and  interest,  but  the  scene  was  now  brought 
home  to  her  feelings,  and  she  burst  inta  tears. 
*'  Are  we  then  to  lose  you,  my  brother  ?"  cried  she. 
*'  What  cruel  iate  directed  these  strangers  here  ? 
We  were  so  happy." 

Theodore  embraced  her.     "  Weep  not,Evelina," 
said  he,  "your  brother  will  not  forsake  you." 
*    H^r  ey^s  instantly  brightened  with  vivacity,. tho' 
a  tear  still  trenibled  in  the  eyelash.  ^ 

Q^pt*  Marvin  had  now  recovered  his  self  posses- 
sion, he  wished  to  terminate  this  ai^icting  scene,, 
and  divert  the  attention  of  the  company  into  anoth- 
er channeL  He  therefore  enquired  of  the  Vicomte 
how  his  brother  came  to  .|^  abandoned  in  NeW'- 
Jersey.  ^    • 


Una 


»> 


tho' 

>98es- 
:ene, 
loth- 
tomte 

ftw- 


W 

**  1  will  cndeafor  to  satisfy  )rou,**  laid  de  Luntf- 
yille ;  "  but  must  first  give  some  short  account  of 
my  family.*'  He  then  took  a  seat.  Theodore 
placed  himself  between  Evelina  and  aunt  Martha. 
AH  w^Mjilent,  and  de  Luneville  thus  began. 

^*  PjIPb  the  commencement  of  the  fatal  revolu- 
tion/ mere  was  not  in  France  a  ha|^ier  family,  than 
that  of  de  Clermont.  My  father  could  trace  his 
pedigree  from  the  time  of  Ulovis.  The  family  had 
been  verv  powerful,  and  the  wealth  of  several 
branches  had  recently  centered  in  my  father.  Our 
mother  was  daughter  to  the  Duke  d'Auxerre.  She 
was  amiable  and  intelligent,  and  our  parents  were 
strongly  entwined  in  th^  bonds  of  mutual  affection. 
I  was  their  eldest  child,  and  had  attained  my  se- 
venth year,  when  my  brother  was  bom.  We  re- 
sided jirincipally  at  the  chateau  of  our  ancestors  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Marseilles.  My  father  had^ 
during  his  youth,  served  in  the  army  with  credit, 
but,  on  his  marriage,  had  resigned  hifl  commission. 
Possessed  of  domestic  felicity,  and  the  society  of 
some  chosen  fViends,  he  had  no  desire  for  the  gaie- 
ties of  Paris ;  and  my  mother's  taste  accorded  with 
that  of  her  husband.  But  the  revolution  exploded. 
Their  felicity  fled,  and  yr^  succeeded  by  dread 
and  terror. 

''  My  grandfather  had  married  an  Austrian  lady. 
H^r  broUier  often  visited  his  nephew,  accompanied 
by  his  son,  Victor,  my  cousin  here  present.  In 
1793,  my  uncle,  notwimstanding  the  difficulties  of 
the. undertaking,  again  paid  us  a  visit ;  but  it  wiaS 
to  prevail  on  my  father  to  bring  his  fkmily  to  Aus- 
tria, and  there  await  the  result  of  the  chaos,  th^t 
was  then  overwhelmindl^  France.  **  No,"  said  my 
father,  "  I  will  not  forsi£e  my  country.  In  her  pre- 
sent critical  situation,  she  lecftiires  the  presence  of 
all  her  faithful  sons,    It  ir  too  tii%  I  may  be  im- 


i^iA 


[iiSt^ 


# 


'  r 


■-««*»„ 


$6 


.*■ 


molated,  still  wiU  1  abide  the  storm  ;  but  the  Mar 
chioness  and  my  sons  may  accompany  you  to  Aus- 
tria.'' ^^No,  said  my  mother,  I  will  not  abandon  my 
husband*  I  will  remain  with  you  my  dear  Mar- 
quis«''  "  Be  it  so,"  said  my  father,  "thou^  appear- 
ances are  gloomy,  they  may  not  be  so  de8{|erate  as 
we  imagine,  but  4  wish  to  guard  against  the  extinc- 
tion of  my  family*  Uncle,  I  will  commit  my  son 
Louis  to  your  care.  I  have  often  thought  of  send- 
ing him  for  a  year,  or  two,  to  Germany,  that  he 
might  acquire  the  language.  We  will  now  carry 
this  intention  kito  efTect,  and  De  Luneville's  edu- 
cation may  proceed  with  that  of  your  son  Victor." 

*^  I  ac^rdingly  accompanied  my  uncle  into  Aus- 
tria.    The  estate  of  my  father  continued  tranquil, 
■during  the  reign  of  terror  that  succeeded.  At4|ngth 
blood  thirsty  men  sought  his  life,  and  the  Mai|ui^ 
was  denounced  as  an  aristocrat,  and  an  eheily  w 
itlie  people ;  and,  but  for  the  timely  information  of 
a  man  who  had  formerly  been  his  valet,  but  then 
held  an  office  of  impor^nce,  he  would  have  per- 
ielied  by  the  guillotine.     The  murderers  surround- 
ed our  house,  when  my  farther  fled  through  a  sub- 
terranean passage,  gained  a  fishing  boat,  and  efiect-^ 
ed  his  escape.     My  mother  was  to  follow  as  soon 
as  possible,  and  join  the  Marqius  in  Austria,  but 
the  blood  thirsty  rufhans  did  not  allow  her  time,  for 
before  she  could  effect  this  design,  they  again  sur- 
rounded the  chateau.     Their  poison  had  been  dis- 
seminated among  the  tenants,  and  those  ungrateful 
churls  joined  in  robbing  the  chateau.     They  had 
an  order  from  a  revolutionary  tribunal,  to  seize  my 
mother  and  conduct  her  to  prison.    Imagine  her 
situation,  with  little  Theodore  in  her  arms,   the 
chateau  filled  with  ruffians,  and  no  defence  but  the 
feeble  lock  of  her  closet.     She  sunk  on  her  knees, 
^nd  sought  the  protection  of  Heaven.    The  door 


»7 


was  burst  open,  oiir  unroi1:unate  mother  shrieketl, 
and  elapsed  her  child  to  her  bosom.  But  it  was  a 
deliverer  who  entered,  Joseph  was  a  favored  ser- 
vant of  the  family,  had  been  born  ,and  reared  on 
the  estate."  "Madame,"  he  cried,  "hasten  to  dis- 
guise yourself.  I  have  brought  you  the  dress  of  a 
paysannc."  My  mother  looked  on  him  as  an  an* 
gel  from  Heaven,  and  was  quickly  metamorphosed 
mto  a  young  paysanne.  Joseph  had,  in  the  mean 
time,  taken  off  the  rich  dress  worn  by  Theodore, 
and  clothed  him  in  a  course  little  gown  and  cap. 
"Now,  Madame,"  said  Joseph,  "we  will  escape  by 
Ihe  same  subterranean  passage  that  faciUtated  the 
departure  of  Monsieur  Le  Marquis,  and  once  at  a 
distance  from  the  chateau,  no  one  will  recosnize 

m^  mother's  maiid,  Marion,  here  made  her  ap- 
pearance, h\ii  as  she  had  nothing  to  apprehend  from 
the  asMilants,  she  was  directed  to  keep  watch  at 
the  entrance  of  the  passage,  an4  entice  away  any 
person  who  might  discover  it. 

My  father  had  in  the  mean  time  retired  to  Aus- 
tria. He  there  awaited  my  mother,  but,  receiving 
no  tidings  from  her,  his  anxiety  grew  excessive, 
and  he  ventured  to  retura  to  France,  and  visit  his 
chateau  in  disguise.  He  found  nothing  but  the  bare 
walls  remaining.  In  wandering  round  the  plac^^e 
met  Marion.  From  her  the  Marquis  learnt  thepiaur- 
ticulars  1  have  related,  concerning  the  hie  of  her 
mistress;  but  Marion. knew  no  more.  My  fafther^s 
anguish  was  excessive.  He  made  all  possible  en- 
quiry, but  could  obtain  no  clue,  concerning  the  des- 
tiny of  his  lady.  Our  friends  concluded,  that  the 
Marchioness  must  have  perisked,  through  the  agen- 
cy of  the  bloody  government.  My  father  narrowly 
escaped  being  seized,  and  again  fled,  almost  distrac- 
ted, to  Austria,  where  he  possessed  a  sinall  estate^ 

9 


♦  ; 


1 

1- 
i 

ii 

lip 

:   1 
1 

Hi 

H  m 

i 

H  '1     fVtlDiEI'^^'ii' 

Kiflill: 

!• 

iHBvll  !h  Bfii!  < 
SHmli  Vm'^ 

i  ;  * 

t;-' 

^Hllii  hIII'' 

1; 

1 

H 

1 

'B 

H 

1 

98 


which  he  inherited  in  right  of  his  mother.  Those 
of  our  friends  who  remained  in  France,  continued 
their  enquiries  concerning  the  Marchioness;  hut  no 
tidings  of  my  i^jother  transpired," 

"My  father  joined  the  Austrians  and  continued 
with  their  army,  until  the  conchision  of  the  war  be- 
tween hisf  Imperial  Majesty  and  the  French  repub- 
Hc.  He  then  retired  to  his  httle  Austrian  estate, 
and  dcToted  the  most  of  his  time  to  my  education." 

"  The  great  estate  of  my  uncle  lay  contiguous  to 
the  little  one  possessed  by  my  father.  My  cousin 
Victor  and  myself  were  inseparable.  At  the  age  of 
fifteen,  b^  had  the.  misfortune  to  lose  his  father. 
^Mine  was  appointed  his  guardian ;  and  he  then  rie-' 
^idedwithus.  Years. r^led  on,  rand  the  hope  of 
meeting  my  mother,  or  brother,  had  ceased  to  exisjU 
•My  famer  could  not  forget  this  loss,,  and  lived  very 
retired;  but,  as  we  grew  up,  my  cousin  Leuchen- 
burg  and  myself,  often. resided  at  his  Hotel  in 
Vienna*  We  ajso  travelled  together.  The  Count 
was  very  fond  of  the  wild  and  magnificent  scenes  of 
nature,  and  we  passed  the  whole  of  the  last  summer 
in  Switzerland,  visiting  every  part  of  that  pictur- 
.  esque  country, 

"We  were,. .one  evening,  benighted,  near  one  of 
the  glaciers,  and  were  very  much  at  a  loss  for  a  sup- 
perj  and  a  place  to  lodge  in ;  for  the  village  where 
/we  had  left  our  servants  and  baggage,  wa«$  at  too 
great  a  distance,  to  think  of  returning  that  night. 
Whilfe  in  tjijs  perplexity,  we  heard  the  tinkling  of  a 
bell,,  and  presently  perceived , a  little  boy  collecting 
his  sheep.  We  made  our  necessities  known  to  him, 
and  he  conducted  us  to  his  father's  cot,  situated  on 
.the  decHvity  of  the  i^iountain. 

"  The  mountaineer  |:eceived  us  with  great  hospi- 
-tality,  while  hts  wife  hastily  prepared  us  a  supper,  of 
their  best  shepherd's  far.Q. 


^ 


9b 


'^Coutit  Lcilchenburg  happened  to  address  me  by 
D&me.  Our  host  started,  ^^pardoivme,  gentlemen,'? 
said  he,  ^'but  did  not,i  hear  the  name  of  de  Leune- 
viUe  ?" 

*'  It  is  my  appellation,  I  replied.^' 

*'  Are  yoft  hot  from  Provence,  sir  ?" 

"  I  was  bom  there,  replied  I." 

^^  You  are,  then,  the  eldest  son  of  the  late  Marquis* 
de  Beaucaire?''  pursued  the  mountaineer. 

'^  I  am  his  only  son,  and  the  Marquis  is  still  living/^ 

*'  Can  this  be  possible !"  cried  our  host.  "  I  un- 
derstood that  Mons.  Le  Marquis  had  fallen  in  bat- 
tle, fighting  against  the  republic,  and  that  the  Count 
de  Leuchenburg  was  also  dead.'' 

"  You  were  rightly  informed  concerning  niv  un- 
cle's decease,  replied  I,  but,  thank  God,  my  Hither 
is  still  alive." 

"And  youp  broUier,  Theodore,  have  you  heard 
from  him?" 

"He,  and  our  mother  perished  in  the  revolution." 

'    "No,  thank  Heaven,"  cried  the  shepherd,  "thfey 

did  nbt  perish  by  those  blood-hounds,  although  A- 

merica  has  proved  as  fatal  to  my  dear  lady,  as  France 

could  have  been." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  enquired  I,  who  appear  so  well 
acquainted  with  the  fate  of  my  family  ?" 

"  I  am  Joseph  Le  Beau,  the  servant  of  your  mo-' 
ther." 

"Gracious  Providence?  arid  how  happens  it  I 
fmd  you  here,  transformed  into  a  Swiss  mountaiop 
ecr?" 

"  If  Mousieur  will  listen,"  said  the  man, "  he  shall 
hear  from  me,  the  fate  of  his  mother." 

"  The  day  we  left  France,  Madame  had  sent  me 
on  an  errand  to  Marseilles.  I  there  heard  what  was 
intended  against  my  lady,  and  hastily  procuring  dis- 
guise, Thastened  home.     I  just  arrived  in  timf :  ^r 


ii 


100 


the  blood-thirsty  villains  had  burat  open  the  char 
teau;  but  I  soon  discovered  Madame.  1  took  mas- 
ter Theodore  in  my  arms,  and  my  lady  followed  me^ 
disguised  as  a  country  girl.  The  subterraneous  pas- 
rage  conducted  us  to  a  retired  place,  at  some  dis^ 
tance  from  the  chateau.  We  then  took  the  road  to 
Marseilles,  sadly  afraid  of  being  discovered.  We 
found  a  ship  weighing  anchor,  and  hastily  embark- 
ed on  board;  nor  thoudit  of  emigrating  where  she 
Was  bound.  It  was  sufficient  that  she  bore  us  from 
the  imminent  danger  which  surrounded  us. 

^^ Madame  was  quite  exhausted  by  the  fatigue,, 
fear,  and  anxiety  she  had  experienced.  I  assisted 
her  to  her  birth,  in  the  cabin ;  and  the  following 
day,  she  w^s  in  a  violent  delirium.  I  attended  her 
witli  diligent  care,  and,  in.  about  ten  days,  Madame 
recovered  her  reason." 

"Joseph,"  said  ll^Iarquise,  "where  are  we?  for 
my  memory  is  very  much  confused." 

"  In  a  ship,  my  dear." 

"But  how  come  I  here?"  she  enquired. 

^^I  related  what  had  passed  at  the  chateau." 

"0  true,"  she  replied,  "1  did  not  clearly  remem- 
ber; but  where  is  my  little  Theodore?" 

"  Here,  mama,"  cried  the  amiable  child,  who  sat 
silent  by  the  birth,  that  he  might  not  disturb  his  dear 
mama. 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  Madame  la  Marouise,  "  ble*-^ 
„sed  be  Heaven  who  has  preserved  you  for  your  mo- 
^er.  Raise  him,  Joseph,  that  I  may  embrace  him." 
She  kissed  her  little  darling,  who  was  in  raptures, 
to  find.'  that  his  dear  mama. again  recognized  him; 
but  the  exertion  overcame  her,  and  she  fell  back.  on. 
her  pillow. 

"  The  following  day,  Madame  again  noticed  her 
little  boy,  and  enquired  whither  we  were  s^ilijig?" 

"To  America,  Madame."  n 


101 


a, 


"My  God!  cried  she,  "and  how  shall  we  get  to 
tlie  court  of  Austria  ?" 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,  my  lady,  replied  I,  "and^ 
if  I  had,  you  know  we  had  no  choice.  But,  is  A- 
merica  verv  far  from  Austria?  For  1  had  never  left 
France  hefore,  and  did  not  then  know  much  of  ge- 
ography." 

*'  Far  enough,  my  good  Joseph ;  but  send  tlie  cap- 
tain to  me,"  said  la  Marquise. 

"  The  Captain  informed  her,  that  he  was  bound 
to  New- York.  We  were  ah-eady  far  out  to  sea. 
There  was  no  remedy,  but  patience  ;  and  Madame 
comforted  herself  with  the  hope  of  returning,  by 
some  other  ship,  to  Europe*.  We  arrived  safe  in 
New- York.  Madame  began  to  be  cmivalescent ; 
and  we  took iodiejings  at  a  French  boarding  house  in 
Pearl-street.  Madame  concluded  to  remain  there.„ 
a  few  weeks,  for  the  recovery  of  her  health,  and 
then  take  passage  for  Englahdi  from  whence  she 
might  write  to  Mons.  Le  Marquis. 

"But  we  were  soon  involved  in  new  difficulties. 
Madame  had  very  little  money  about  her  when  we 
(led  from  the  chateau,  and  I  had  never  had  much 
money  about  me  in  my  life;  Madame  had,  however, 
valuable  rings,  and  other  trinkets.  The  sale  of 
these  paid  our  passage,  and  something  remained,  on 
which  we  thought  we  might  with  proper  economy 
subsist,  and  even  reach  England. 

"  At  this  juncture,  the  yellow  fever  broke  out  in 
New-Yorlf,  and  Madame  was  seized  with  the  disor- 
der. 1  was  in  despair.  My  God !  thought  I,  has 
Madame  then  left  her  own  native  France,  to  perish 
by  the  pestilence  in  America?  It  would  have  been 
better  to  have  'fallen  by  the  hand  of  the  regicides, 
which  would  have  saved  all  tWs  suffering.  But  tK), 
it  is  better  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  God,  than  into 
those  of  men.  I  attended  my  dear  lady,  with  all  tho 
*  9*    - 


%»'■ 


%\ 


.:*J;"|4s 


I 


102 


m 


care  I  could;  and  need  had  she  of  my  attention  ;•  for 
the  barlbarous  people  of  the  boarding  house  aban*- 
doned  her,  and  removed  to  the  country,  and  I  was 
left  alone  with  Madame,  and  little  Theodore.  All 
our  money  was  soon  expended.  We  had  sold  eve- 
ry thing  of  value.  The  dear  child  began  to  look 
pale,  and  wan,  and  I  was  utterly  at  a  loss  what 
course  ta  pursue ;  for  Madame  was  too  ill  to  direct 
me.  She  was  indeed  totally  unconscious,  which  sa- 
ved her  much  mental  anxiety. 

"  She  had  expended  the  last  crown.-  The  little 
boy,  who  was  always  hovering  around  his  mama, 
desired  his  supper.  I  gave  him  the  last  piece  of 
bread  that  remained,  when  he  lay  down  on  his  little 
bed,  and  fell  asleep.  I  sat  down  for  a  few  moments, 
in  great  a^ony  of  mind.  It  was  then  dark.  I  light- 
ed a  rush  light,  and  brought  it  near  Madame.  She 
was  in  a  stupor.  Poor  lady,  thought  1,  little  tliinks 
your  noble  husband,  in  what  a  state  you  live,  with 
,no  nurse  nor  attendant  but  poor  Joseph ;  you,  whom 
I  once  knew  at  the  pinnacle  of  grandeur.  But  noble 
birth  and  great  riches  do  not,  it  seems,  exempt  their 

possessor  from  suffering  and  want. And  your 

son !  Famine  and  disease  must  now  be  his  portion. 
I  am  afraid  that  contagion  already  lurks  in  his  veins; 
and  when  the  dear  boy  asks  for  his  breakfast  in  the 
morning,  I  have  nothing  to  give  him.  He  must  per- 
ish with  hunger  before  my  face.  The  son  of  the  no- 
ble Marquis  de  Beaucaire  must  perish  with  hunger. 
!&(o,{)C  shall  not,  if  Joseph  can  save  him.  In  a  mood 
©f  frenzy,  I  caught  up  the  child,  and  sallied  out.  A 
boat  was  putting  off  for  the  opposite  coast  of  Jersey. 
I  sprang  into  it.  .  On  reaching  the  landj  I  again  hur- 
ried away,  I  knew  not  whither,  and  in  rushing  for- 
yvdi'd  nearly  threw  down  a  gentleman ;  I  stopped  a 
moment,  and  recognized  a  merchant  of  our  nei;^h- 
bourhoodj  who  bore  an  cxceUent  character  for  gen- 


im 


J* 


erosity,  probity  and  other  amiable  qualities.    Imme^ 
diately  the  idea  of  committing  Theodore  to  hi^care 
suggested  itself  to  my  imagination.     I  felt  assured 
that  he  would  not  abandon  the  child;  and  I  thought 
if  Madame  recovered  her  health,'  or  the  Marquis  re- 
claimed his  son,  we  should  know  where  to  find  him. 
I  accordingljr  laid  Theodore  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Mar- 
vin, beseeching  him  to  take  charge  of  the  innocent.- 
Then  hurried  back  to  Madame,  wha  still  continued^ 
insensible.     I  watched  by  her  bed-srde.     Towards 
morning,  she  recovered  her  recoUection.     "How 
kind  you  are,  Joseph,"  said  the  unfortunate  lady. 
"  You  continue  faithful,  when  all  the  world  have 
forsaken  me.     Where  is  my  dear  little  Theodore  ?" 
I  hesitated.     "  O  he^is  asleep^     Don't  disturb  hipi. " 
May  the  Almighty  bftss  and  protect  my  chilc^^^ay 
the  blessing  of  Heaven  rest  on  my  dear  husbalnd,:  scnct 
on.  my  son  Louis.     I  hope,  Joseph,  they  will  reward 
you,  for  your  kindness  to  me."  The  dear  lady  spoke 
this  with  difficulty.     She  then-raised  her  eyes  to 
Heaven,  "Jesus,  my  Saviour,"  she  faultered,  "hav*-^ 
mercy  on  me."  Her  head  fell  on  the  pillow.    I  hast- 
ened to  support  her.     A  lifeless  corps  lay  in  my 
arms.     The  spirit  had  fled  to  its  God;  for  the  pure 
aoul  of  la  Marquise  must  have  been  immediately 
imited'with  its-  Creator. 

"  It  was  a  solemn,  an  awful  moment.  Shivering 
with  agony;  I  sat  down  beside  the  bed  of  death. 
Some  tears  I  shed,  hni  they  were  soon  dried  up, 
for  my  lady  had  escaped  from  tlie  numerous  evik 
.that  surrounded  her,  to  enjoy  unutterable  felicity. 
The  next  day  I  accompanied  the  remains  of  the 
Marchioness  de  Beaucaire,  daughter  of  the  noble' 
Duke  d'Auxerre,  to  the  potter's  field  of  New- York. 
Sad  reverse  of  fortune !  Mournful  proof  of  the  ver- 
satility of  fate !' 1  then  crossed  over  to  New- 
Jersey,  hoping  to  take  a  last  sad  lookof  little  ^^•- 


^51 


»>- 


104 


M:   I'l 


Pi', 


odore.     I  entered  into  conversation  with  a  negro 
tvoman,  whom  I  found  near  the  place  where  1  had 
left  the  child,  and  learnt  from  her,  that  she  had  that 
morning  seen  such  a  child  as  I  described,  embark 
on  board  a  vessel,  with  a  gentleman  and  lady,  whom 
she  also  described.     Disappointed  at  not  seeing  my 
little  master,  but  satisfied  by  the  negro's  account, 
lliat  he  was  under  the  protection  of  the  gentleman 
with  whom  I  had  left  him,  I  crossed  over  to  Long 
Island;  and,  having  made  my  way  on  foot  to  Us  eas- 
tern extremity,  I  passed  to  the  continent  and  then 
walked  to  Boston.     There  I  entered  into  the  ser- 
vice of  an  English  gentleman,  with  whom  I  sailed 
to  England.     My  master  recommended  me  to  a' 
gentleman,  who  desired  a  French  servant  to  attend* 
him  on  hisUravels.     At  Vienna  We  made  enouiries 
concerning  my  old  master,  the  Marquis  de  JBeau- 
caire,  we  were  there  informed  that  the  Count  de 
Leuchenburg  was  dead,  and  that  his  nephew,  Mons. 
le  Marquis  de  Beaucaire,    had    fallen  in   battle. 
During  a  long  stay  that  my  master  made  in  Switzer- 
land, I  became  acquainted  with  Marguerite,  whom 
I  thought  so  pretty  and  engaging,  that  I  requested 
my  discharge,  and  resolved  to  settle  in  Switzerland..^ 
Marguerite  was  an  only  child.    Her  father  left  her 
this  little  property.     I  had  saved  wages,  and  we 
Kave  here  lived  comfortably,  these  ten  years." 

"  Joseph  here  ceaseili  His  recital  had  too  pow- 
flilly  agitated  me,  to  permit  my  expressing  myself 
in  words,  but  Count  Leuchenburg,  taking  his  hand; 
exclaimed  "brave  and  worthy  Joseph^  faithful  and 
generous  man,  your  conduct  would  do  honor  to  the 
noblest  Wood,"  "Faithfulness  and  humanity  are 
not  confined  to  nobility,"  said  Joseph* 

"  It  is  you,  who  possess  the  true  nobility  of  the 
§oul,"  cried  I  grasping  his  hand.  "  Thou  benefac- 
tor of  my  mother ;  and  has  then  that  dear  mother 


•%, 


T05 


survived  to  experience  such  bitter  misfery  ?  And  is- 
my  brother  a  destitute  orphan  in  America'?*' 

*^  The  next  morning  we  set  out  for  my  father's 
retreat.  His  sorrow  was  great  at  our  recital.  It 
amounted  to  agony  at  the  relation  of  my  mother'a 
sufferings."  "  And  yonr  brother,''  he  exclaimed, 
^'  we  mast  recover  him,  Louis.  I  will  instantly  set 
out  for  Switzerland,  and  learn  every  particular  from' 
Joseph." 

^^  The  faithful  creature  was  rejoiced  to  see  my^ 
father.    The  Marquis  was  not  rich,  but  his  cousin 
Count  Leuchenburg  is  wealthy.    Between  them, 
they  purchased  a  fuie  littFe  properfy,  that  was  to  be 
sold  in  his  neighborhood,  and  presented  it  to  Jo- 
seph, which  rendered  him  the  richest  shepherd  in.* 
his  valley.     My  father  was  continually  with  Jo- 
seph, discour8ing.of  my  mother,  and  devisiag  means 
for  the  recovery  of  my  brother*    The  Marquis  and 
his  old  servant  were  to  set  out  for  America  togeth- 
er, but  Count  Luchenburg  prevented  this;  "cou<*.* 
sin,"  said  he  to  my  father, ''  I  have  long  had  a  pas*- 
sionate  desire  to  visit  the  cataract  of  Niagara.   Lou« 
is  and  I  will  go  together.     In  our  rout  we  may  dis« 
cover  your  son ;  and  if  we  fail,  Joseph  and  you  mayr 
then  ^0."  ^  ^ 

"  My  father  was  prevailed  on  to  agree  to  this  ar-  - 
rangement,  and  we  accordingly  set  out.  At  New- 
York,  we  sought  Mr.  Marvin,  who  was  not  to  be 
found,  but  after  much  persevering  enquiry,  we 
learnt  that  he  had  failed  in  the  city,  and  with  his 
family  was  settled  in  the  environs  of  Tonnewonte^ 
Last  night  we  arrived  at  the  village,  and  this  morn- 
ing the  Count  proposed  that  we  should  leave  our 
attendants  at  the  inn,  and  only  accompanied  by 
■  Pierre,  ramble  throngh  the  country,  as  he  wished^ 
to  see  nature  in  her  wild  and  native  domain.'.'  "Per- 
haps," said  he,  "we  may  likewise  meet  yoar  bro» 


■i^''^ 


a')- 


't 


io4 


::f.i; 


iKeh''    "1  thought  this  very  iinprohaUcj  but  irilK- 
ingly  accompanied  my  cousin. 

"We  lost  ourselves  in  the  forest.  Night  and  the 
storm  overtook  ui,  when,  conducted  no  doubt  by 
overruling  9l*ovidence,  we- met  my  brother." 

"  When,  on  entering  this  house,'  my  eye  first 
elanced  on  his  countenance,  I  was  struck  with  the 
bunily  resemblence'discemable  in  his  fciatures,  and> 
began  to  hope  that  I  had  met  with  the  brother  I  was 
in  search  of;  and,  praised  be  God,  1  shall  now, 
Theodore,  restore  you  to  your  father." 

"  Here  the  young  Yicomte  aealn  embraced  his 
newly  -recovered  brother^  The  breast  of  the  young 
backwoodsman  was  torn  with  conflicting  emotions. 
Did  this  eventful  relation  refer  to  him  ?  Did  he  then 
belong  to  the  haughty  aristocracy  of  Europe  ?  Those 
contemners  of  the  rights  of  man  \  And^his  heart  rose 
indignantly  in  his  breast.'  =-  *'  I  haveat  least  leamed- 
the  intrinsic  value  of  man^"  thought  he,  "  I  have 
f  ^und  it  is  not  arbitrary  distinctions  that  ennoble  the 
faculties,  and  raise  the  soul,  that  emanation  fronv 
the  self  eiistent  first  cause,  which  eaually  pervades 
all  intelligent  beings  {  To  debase  and  enslave  man, 
is  then  to  debase  and  enslave  the  I)eity  that  ani- 
niates  hun  \  These  haughty  nobles  shall  find,  that 
the  consciousness  of-  truo'dignity.and  worth  in  a  ci- 
teen,  whose  soul  is  filled  with  enlarged'  views  of 
mankind,  is  equal  to  the  arrogant  pretensions  and 
prejudices  of  birth^  and  the  pride  of  remote  ances- 
try, which- is  nothing  but  the  time  which  has  elaps- 
ed since  they  appropriated  the  collected  rights  of 
such  a  large  number  of  individuals  to  their  own  fam- 
ily. Lo,  whatever  a  vassal  lost  of  the  dignity  ol| 
human  nature,  was  claimed  by  the  hand  that  de- 
prived him  of  his  native  right,  and  trampled  on  the 
being  created  in  the  image  of  God.- — ^But  mari- 
kind,  tired  of  |his  Usurpation,  have  endeavored  to 


107 


and 


■man- 
led  to 


^recover  their  natural  inheritance,  and  in  their  turu 
inflict  vengeance  on  those  rohbers  of  their  deareKt, 
possessions,  who  had  so  long  deprived  them  of  the 
4:hoice8t  gifts  of  natiH^e!'' 

"  And  am  I,  then,  tlie  son  df  that  suffering  lady, 
>the  object  of  her  tender  s61icitude,  and  did  that 
amiable  female  sufiTcr  for  the  oppression  of  her  an- 
cestors ?  Must  tlie  innocent  be  punished  for  the 
guilty?  Aks,  the  sins  of  the  fathers,  must  indeed 
be  visited  on  the  children,  and  the  vengeance  de-  - 
6igned>for  the  usurpers,  must  fall  on  their  posterity, 
who  enjoy  the  fruit  of  ttieir  usurpationsr" 

"  And  have  T,  then,  a  father,  an  affectionate  fa* 
ther,  who  mourns  my  loss,  who  seeks  to  regain  his 
long  lost  son  ?  The  voice  of  nature  is^  awakened  in 
my  bosom.  I  must  see  this  parent.  I  must  visit 
the  grave  of  my  mother." 

These  were  the  reflee lions  that  successively  sug- 
gested themselves  to  the  mind  of  Theodore  de  Cler- 
anont,  as  his  .brother  pursued  his  narrative.  He 
warmly  returned  de-Luneville's,  embraoc.  "  My 
brother,"  was  all  he  couM  articulate. 

Capt.  Marvin  had  listened  attentively.  Aunt 
Martha  felt  so  much  for  the  sufferings  -of  the  Mar- 
chioness, that  she  thought  of  nothing  else.  Eveli- 
na had  listened  to  Hie  narrative  with  great  interest. 
She  had  shed  tears  at  the  fate  6f  ijie  unfortunate 
lady,  the  mother  of  Tlicodore,  but  her  thoughts 
again  recurred  to  the  son,  who  was  to  be  restored 
to  the  father,  they  now  for  the  tirst  time  heard  of  i 
•  "Theodore,"  cried  she,  with  native  simplicity, 
"you  will  not  abandon  u»?"  The  youth  approach- 
ed her.  "  Monsieur  4e  Clermont  has  a  father  wh* 
jequires  his  presence,"  said  Count  Leuchenburg. 
"My  brother  must  be  impatient  to  see  his  only  re 
maining  parent,"  said  the  Vicomte,  "and  the  anxi- 
ety of  that  parent  will  not  be  terminated,  until  he 
embraces  his  long  lost  son*". 


i! 


"  1  do  feci  h€re  a  divided  duty,"  said  Theodore. 
I  wish  to  render  my  duty  to  my  failier,  but  how 
n  1  abandon  my  benefactor  ?" 
" Theodore,"  re(>Iied  Capt.  Marvin,  "I  feel  for 

E perplexity,  but  follow  the  dictates  of  nature. 
four  duty  to  youillAither.  Let  him  sef  bis  son. 
ye  worthy  01  ao.  adopted  citizen  of  America. 
If  you  find  every  thing  to  your  satisfacHitt^  temain 
in  Europe ;  but,  after  trying  the  paths  of  igrandeur^ 
if  you  cannot  discover  happiness,  remember  that 
the  arms  of  juDur  American  iriends  will  be  open  te 
receive  fou.  Though  youmay,  at  Vienna,  move 
in  a  more  elevated  sphere  than  at  Tonnewonte,  yet 
here,  you  will  fmd  competency  and  independence; 
nor  will  you  have  to  <crouch  the  native  dignitv  of 
your  soul,  beneath  the. arrogance  of  a  superior." 

Theodore  clasped  his  hand,  "  O  my  more  than 
fiithcr !  my  benefactor,"  cried  he,  "  I  will  follow 
your  advice.  1  ivill  obey  the  mandate  of  nature 
and  cross  the  ocean,  to  pay  my  duty  to  the  author 
of  my  existence;  but  my  heart,  through  every 
change,  shall  still  point  to  the  back  settlements  of 
Kew- Yufk."     Then,.liasti]y  bidding  all  good  night, 

he  retired  to  his  bed,  not  to  sk^p but  to  think. 

Aunt  Martha  very  pensively,  and  Evelina,  her  eyes 
swimming  in  tears,  foUowecl^is  example.  The 
guests  were  shewn  their  rooms,  and  nothing  was 
heard  through  4he  bouse  but  the  pelting  of  the 
£torm. 


^' 


,►<*• 


109 
CHAPTER  IX. 


■ 


^ow  loT*d,  bow  honour'd  once,  avalli  tbee  dot, 

Vu  whom  reUted,  or  by  whom  begul; 

A  hetp  of  dust  alone  remahis  of  tb««« 

*Tli  Atl  ihuu  art,  and  all  ibe  proud  ihall  be ! 

^  Port. 

.  ^       "  '    '* 

»n6iring  morning,  Capt.  Marvin, ||# 
^  ie|tl,  again  met  together  at  the  breaki_  _ 
IWhaggard  looks  of  Theodore,  indicated' 
his  having  passed  a  sleepless  night.  "^I^re  seemed 
at  first  but  little  unanimity  in  tno  cmnpany.  The 
ladies  considered  the  strangers  as  the  robbers  of  their 
happiness,  for  they  came  to  take  Theodore  away. 
Capt.  Marvin  experienced  also  a  degree  of  despon- 
dence, at  the  near  prospect  of  losing  his  adopted  sou, 
whom  he  had  long  considered  as  the  stay  of  his  old 
age.  He  felt,  however,  that  the  loss  was  unavoida- 
ble, and  he  was  resolved  to  meet  the  bereavement 
with  a  good  grace.  ^ 

After  breakfast,  he  proposed  to  send  to  the  village 
ibr  the  suite  and  baggage  of  his  guests,  and  he  invit- 
ed them  to  pass  some  time  at  his  house. 

"We  are  muchindebted  to  your  kindness,^'  said 
Count  Leuchenburg,  "and  I  am  much  inelincd  to 
make  your  house  our  head-quarters,  for  some  weeks. 
My  cousin  Theodoie  will  now  accompany  us  m  our 
excursions,  and  be  our  guide  to  whatever  is  remark- 
able in  this  original  seat  of  nature.^' 

The  brothers  «acceeded  to  this  arrangement,  and 
Count  Leuchenburch  was  often  delighted  with  the 
wild  luxriance  of  the  wilderne^.  The  falls  of  Niag- 
ara far  exceeded  what  his  imagination  had  portray- 
'ed.  Lake  Erie's  immense  sheet  of  water  excited 
his  admiration,  and  he  confessed  that'  the  truly  sub- 
lime scenery  he  had  beheld,  amply  compensated  for 
ihe  trouble  of  ^ros^ing  the  Atlantic. 
%         *       10 


I 


ii!i 


■V  MnSJ^ 


no 


i'-^- 


if  ? 


ii-i 


But  Count  Leuchenburg  had  nonr  satisfied  his  cu- 
riosity. He  became  impatient  to  return  to  Europe. 
The  Vicomte  was  still  more  eager ;  and  Theodore 
must  now  take  leave  of  his  old  protectors,  of  his 
^  kind  friends.  The  nightjprcvious  to  his  departure, 
,  neither  the  ladles  nordc  Clermont  closed  their  eyes. 
The  breakfast  was  a  silent  one. 

The  horses  and.servantswer^  ready  at  Jhedoor. 
iThe  young  Vicomte  de  Luneville  took  the  hand  of 
his  host,  ^*  Farewell,  Capt.  Marvin,  kind  and  gei^e- 
rous  man,  adieu!"  /, 

'^Cgpt.  Marvin j^'  said  Count  Leuchenburg,  *%e 
Mti  n6f  efiend  your  noble  nature,  by  desiring  you. to 
accept  pecuniary  compensation  for  the  education  of 
Theodore ;  yet,  should  you  ever  desire  any  thing  in 
our  power  to  bestow,  remember  that  you  have  laid 
ihe  whole  connection  of  the  house  of  de  Clermont 
under  ah  endless  weight  of  gratitude  to  the  benefac- 
tor of  its  son!" 

"  Thank  you.  Count,"  said  the  independent  far- 
mer, ^^  but  America  has  so  many  internal  resources 
for  persons,  that  it  is  not  probable  they  will  ever 
need  foreign  assistance." 

The  gentlemen  then  paid  their  parting  compli- 
,~fnents  to  aunt  Martha  and  Evelina.  Theodore 
took  the  hand  of  his  benefactor.  "My  more  than 
.father,"  said  tlie  youth,  "farewell.  1  must  now 
leave  you ;  but  my  affections  remain  at  Tonnewon- 
te ;  and,  however  distant  my  person  may  be,  my 
heart  will  still  be  present  with  this  dear  circle."      *' 

"Adieu,  my  son,"  Replied  Capt.  Marvin.  .  "May 
Jhe  Almighty  Father  of  the  Universe  be  your  pro- 
tector, and,  Theodore,  remeTr'^cr  the  virtuous 
principles,  in  which  yoii  have  been  reared ;  and  may 
your  conduct  always  reflect  honour  on  your  native 
Europe,  and  on  the  adopted  country,  that  has  rear- 
ed you  " 


11 


my 
May 


m 


* 


"God  give  me  strength,  to  observe  your  instruc. 
tibns,"  replied  Theodore.     Hf  then  saluted  aunt 
MaVtha.     "Farewell,  my  kind  aunt!" 

"Ah  Theodore,"  faultered  the  good  maiden,  "  re- 
tuim  soon  to  us;  for  if  we  loose  you,  one  of  the  few 
links  that  binds  me*  to  life,  will  be  broken.^ 

The  youth  wai  now  embracing  Evelina,  whose' 
painful  feelings -disburdened  themselHtby  a  copious 
flood  of  tealns.  Her  heart  beat  violeatly.  Her  bo- 
som heayed  with  convulsive  emotion.  '  Count  Leu- 
chcnbui^  and  de  LuneviHe  were  on  horsebadi* 
The^ciStfd  t<»  Theodore.  He  tore  himself  from 
his  adopted  snter ;  and,  wsving  his  hand,  sprang  on 
hifs  horse,  and  the  cavalcade  was  soon  lost  in  the 
depths  of  the  forest.  '  •     ,  'w^ 

But  the  buoyant  spirit  of  youth  put  tl^pse  painfql 
emotions  to  fli^t.  Theodore  soon  become  the  most^ 
cheeful  of  the  company,  and  airy  visions  oHi^|{  %<> 
waited  Wm  in  the  old  world,  began  to  float  in  ^piniW 
agination.  '  .  , 

It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the'j^articular^  oftbe 
journey,  since  they  met  with  no  extracrdinary  adven- 
ture. They  arrived  safe  at  New- York,  and  took  lod- 
gings in  Broadway.  Leuchenbur^  and  de  Luneville 
had  brought  letters  of  introduction  from  Europe* 
Our  young  backwoodsman  exchanged  his  rustic 
equipment,  for  a  suit  of  fa^iionable  cut,  and  called 
with  his  friends  to  deliver  them.  The  cordiality  of 
the  inhabitants  of  New- York  towards  strangers  is 
proverbial.  It  may  then  be  imagined,  that  our  three 
young  gentlemen,  with  all  their  advantages,  were  not 
neglected.  Numerous  engagements  occupied  their 
time,  and  they  were  universally  flattered  and  cares- 
sed  in  the  fashionable  circles  of  that  city. 
*  The  two  Europeans  were  highly  pleased  to  find 
elegance  and  refinement,  equal  to  that  of  their  own 
circles,  among  those,  whom  they  had  hitherto  deem- 


'  A 

w 

H 

1 

1 

rear- 


.« 
H2 


m 


m 


ed  the  demi  ravage  citizens  of  America..  The- 
charms  of  novelty^  had  a  still  more  lively  effect  on- 
young  de  Clermont;  and  while  lisfning  to  the  ac- 
complished Miss  Van  Oyden's  exhibition  on  the  pi- 
ano, in  an  elegant  drawing  room,  ^led  with  Uie 
most  fashionable  company  of  the  city,  who  were, 
profuse  in  their  attentions  to  the  handsome  young 
Frcnchmen^Jl^liDOndered  at  his  own  stupidity,  in- 
regretting  tllil^^stic  retreajt  of  Tonnewonte,  and  his 
former  reiuctlince  to  launch  into  the  world  of  fasci- 
^lation,  that  n*6w  surrounded  him. 
*  ^^  But  the  charm  existed,  in  the  kind  souls  who  in- 
habit there,^'  re»{^ded  his  better  self,  "and  the  af- 
fectionate Evelina^  wfire  she.  but  as  accomplished  as 
these  ladies,  would  not  be  equalled  by  any  being on« 
qarth."    '  r 

The  following  morning,  de  Luneville  asked  liift» 
brother,  if. he  would  accompany  him  to  his  ig^ther'si 
gravli  Theodore's  heart  smote  him.  "*^e  sug-r 
gestion  should  have  come  from  myself,"  thought  be^ 
^^  but  my  attention  has  been  so.taken  up  in  this  world 
of  novelties,  that  my  mind  could  dwell  on  nothing 
else."  ■  -^ 

The  two  brothers  proceeded  silently  up  Grien- 
wich-street.  They  passed  through  Greenwich  vil- 
lage ,  and  entered  rotter's  tieldr 

'  In  this  fi  ild  of  charity,  this  receptacle,  of  begga- 
ry," exclaimed  de  Luneville,  "repose  the  remains 
©f  the  decendaht  of  the  Diikes  d'Auxerre,  of  the 
wife  of  the  Marquis  de  Beaucaire*  For  this  she 
fled  from  the  rage  of  equality  in  France ! ' ' 

"  My  poor  mother,"  said  Theodore,  "  her  suffer- 
ings in  this  world,  were  great!" 

"  I  visited  this  place,  previously  to  my  journey  to 
Tonnewonte,"  said  de  Luneville.  "  By  the  indica- 
tion of  Joseph,  we  were  enabled  to  discover  the 
spot,  where  repose  the  remains  of  our  pareat>  Here 


i 


^ 


.■tut 


113 


Tbe- 


it  is ;"  and  he  pointed  to  a  monument  of  the  richest 
marble,  executed  with  great  taste. 

Theodore  seemed  surprised.  "You  think  this 
has  been  erected  with  great  dispatch,"  said  de  Lune- 
ville.  "  It  was  formed  in  Europe,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  our  father.  We  brought  it  with  us,  and  it 
has  been  put  up,  while  we  were  on  our  excursion  in 
the  west." 

De  Clermont  knelt  by  the  grav^  De  Lunevillc 
leaned  pensively  against  the  monument. 

Our  young  backwoodsman  arose.  He  took  the 
arm  of  his  brother.  Hope  beamed  through  his  eyes. 
He  had  been  imploring  the  protection  of  that  Being, 
with  whom  he  felt  assured  his  mother  now  was,  in 
bliss.  "  Our  parent  suffered  greatly  ii|  this  world, 
Louis,  but  she  is  now  happy  in  Heaven." 

The  other  smiled  sadly.  "Does  not  your  heart 
b%at  indignantly,  Theodore,  when  you  think  of  the 
canaille fViho  were  the  primary  cause  of  our  noble 
mother's  sufferings  ?" 

"  Those  who  deprived  them  of  the  rights  of  man, 
must  not  be  surprised,  if  the  generous  feeling  of  hu 
manity  were  no    longer  inmates  in  the  bosom  o 
slaves.'^ 

**  What  mean  you,  de  Clermont,"  cried  the  Vi- 
cortite.  •  "t- 

* "  I  am  considering  the  cas6  impartially,"  replied 
the  naturalized  American. 

"And  you,  the  son  of  the  noble  victim  ?"  said  his 
brother,  indignantly.  • 

"I  am  a  man,  and  feel  for  mankind;" 

"  Theodore  de  Clermont,"  exclaimed  de  Lune- 
ville.  "But  I  forget;  you  have  been  brought  up 
estranged  from  your  noble  family.  You  repeat  the 
maxims  of  tho^  who  reared  you." 

"  I  think  for  myself,"  said  Theodore,  proudly, 

**  We  will,  at  present,  bid  adicTi  to  the  subject," 

10* 


114 


't! ''.  |i 


said  de  Luneville,  "  experience,  my  brother;  will* 
4  lear  Away  the  mist  from  your  eyes.  We  have  been* 
educated  very  diflTercntly;  but  we  are  brothers. 
Our  sentiments,  at  some  future  period,  may  be  more' 
similar.  Until  then,  we  will  avoid  all  subjects  that 
may  lead  to  altercation." 

An  American  ship  was  ready  to  sail  for  Leghorn* 
Theodore  and  his  companions  embarked  in  her^ 
Their  voyage  waaprosperous,  and  they  landed  safe 
in  T(u!y,  from  w^nce  they  continued  their  journey 
to  Austria.  They  found  all  the  country,  through 
which  they  travelled,  in  motion.  Buonaparte  waa 
preparing  for  his  disastrous  campaign  in  Russia ;  and 
they  possessed  several  divisions  of  his  army,  who 
were  marching  to  the  point  of  rendezvous ;  but  the 
pi^nciples  of  our  travellers  would  not  permit  them 
to  take  part  in  this  war;  and  they  hastened  towards 
the  retreat  of  the  Marquis  de  Beaucaire. 

If  it  be  true,  that  we  are  not  to  reckon  time  by  the 
number  of  days  that  have  elapsed,  but  by  the  sue* 
session,  or  accession  of  ideas,  Theodore  must  have 
lived  a  great  while,  since  his  landing  in  Italy.  Eve* 
j;  ry  thing  interested  him ;  but  they  travelled  rapidly. 
^  He  was  in  a  few  miles  oifhis  father's  house;  and  hj« 
impatience  became  great,  to  see  that  father. 

An  avant  courier  had  been  sent  forward,  to  an» 
nounce  thoir  approach.  The  cavalcade-  at  length 
stopped,  before  a  venerable  pile.  Count  Leuchen^ 
burgh  and  de  Luneville  sprang  from  their  horses* 
Theodore  followed  their  example*  •  It  was  a  delightr 
ful  eveniiig.  The  moon  and  stars,  shone  brightly 
in  the  firmament.  The  heart  of  our  young  travel- 
ler beat  quick  with  emotion.  He  followed  his  bro» 
ther,  who  hastened  into  the  house. 

"Have  they  arrived?"  cried  a  voice  from  the 
jforthercnd  of  the  hall. 

"We  are  here,  my  father,"   exclaimed   Louis, 


^ 


■m. 


115 


precipitating  himself  into  the  arm?  of  an  aged  gentle^ 
man,  who  was  hurrying  forward,  and  who  held  out" 
his  arms  to  receive  him. 

"  And  where  is  your  brother?"  enquired  the  Mar- 
quis of  Bcaucaire,*  for  it  was  he. 

*'  Theodore,"  said  d^  Luneville,  "  come  forward 
and  embrace  your  father.'? 

The  youth  approached  with  diffidence.  The  old  -> 
Marquis  gazed  fixedly  at  him.  %  You  are  then  my 
father  ?"  said  de  Clermoiiti"    . 

"  The  voice  of  my  Emilie !  O  ray  son,  my  son, ' 
come  to  your  father's  heart,"  tried  the  old  gentle- 
man, embracing  his  recovered  child. 

The  voice  of  nature  spoke  in  the  breast  of  the' 
youth.     " My  father^"  he  exclaimed)  "I  have  then 
a  parent.     I  am  not  a  Btranger  ofalien  in  the  world,' 
with  no  natural  tie^  nor  claim  on  mankind."     "  Too 
long  have  you  been  such,  my  son,"  said  Mons.  de 
Beaucairej  "but  you  «hall  no\^  be  the  pride,  the 
solace  of  an  affectionate  father !  O  EmiMe,  why  ac|^ 
you  not'  here  to  witness  this  re-union ^  My  happf^ 
ness  were  then  €omplete«    But,  if  fimn  your  abod^ 
of  blessedness,  you  can  behold  us j  look  down  and^ 
see  your  son  restored  to  his  happy  father ;  and  ah) 
tfestow  your  blessing  and  protection  on  him !" 
*   Count  Leuchenburg  now  approached,  and  paid 
his  compliments  to  Mons.  de  Beaucaire,  who  led 
the  way  to  the  dining  joom,  where  supper  was 
served  up. 

The  Marquis  feated  himself  at  the  head  ^f  the 
{^T}le,  and  viewed  the  young  men  with  great  com- 
placency, who  were  regaling  themselves^  with  the 
keen  appetite  created  by  a  day's  hard  travelling. 
"Hope  again  re-animates  my  bosom,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  "never  since  my  exile,  have  I  felt  a< 
happy  as  I-  do  at  this*  moment*  1  do  not  even  des- 
pair of  seeing  theulescendants  of  Henri  quatre  sealK 

?d  en  the  throne  of  France!" 


m 


11 

il4 


4 


*f 


■:.c;* 


li(j 


••»* 


"  There  is  little  probability  of  it,  at  present,"  said 
Count  Leuchenburg,  ^'when  the  gigantic  usurper  is 
at  the  head  of  such  mighty  armies." 

"  But,  with  my  father,  I  hope  against  probabili- 
ty," cried  de  Luneville.  "  My  spirits  rose  as  I 
passed  those  gallant  regiments,  and  I  apostrophised 
that  daring  usurper  who  binds  me  to  such  ignoble 
sloth,  while  my  ancestors  had  all  signalised  them- 
selves by  gloriouBi.  achievments,  long  before  they 
had  attained  the  age  of  the  present  faineant  possess- 
or of  their  title."  "Hope,  my  son,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "  I  may  yet  see  you  at  the  head  of  a 
regiment,  boldly  leading  forward  the  standard  of 
the  HUies  to  victory." 

"  May  fortune  grant  the  accomplishment  "of  your 
wish,"  cried  the  young  Vicount.  "  May  the  hardy 
Russians  overthrow  that  Colossus,  and  then  for  the 
Bourbons !" 

"Will  France  be  happier  under  their  sway?"  en- 
quired Theodore* 

"Alas,  my  dear  child^"  said  the  old  Marquis. 
"  Are  you,  then,  entirely  ignorant  of  the  history  of 
your  native  country  ?  Know  you  not;  that  an  usurp- 
er possesses  the  throne  of  the  legitimate  kings  of 
France?  That  low  Parvenus  occupy  the  places, 
and  enjoy  the  estates  of  our  ancient  noblesse,  who 
are  now  exiles  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe." 

Theodore  hesitated4a  reply  o  -  He  saw  the  preju- 
dices of  the  Miaiiquify  but  he  respected  what  he 
deemed  the  ^errcmeous  views  of  his  father.  "  They 
have  been  fostered  by  education,"  thought  Theodore 
de  Clermont.  The  old  gentleman  seemed  iias-^rb- 
ed  in  reflection,  when  suddenly  turning  to  his  son.- 
"I  thought  the  fame  of  our  fatal  revolution  must 
have  extended  to  every  part  of  the  civilized  globe." 

"  You  are  right  my  iather.  Even  the  children 
in  America  are  familiar  with  the  history  of  that  ter- 
rible convulsioi^^f 


ac( 

mis 
ed 


5> 


117 


'^'^Sb  I  p'resamed,  my  ipn,  but  we  will  not  com- 
mence to  night  concerning  the  deficiencies  of  youl*' 
education,  though  certainly  no  time  is  t6  .be  lost. 
You  appear  genteel  and  well  bred;  and  have  re-' 
tained  your  native  language^  though  you  have  thef- 
accent  of  a  foreigner."  ^^ 

'^Theodore  de  Clermont  is  not  uninformed,  tSut 
misinformed,"  said  de  Luneville.  ^^I^  has  been  reair-' 
ed  by  violent  republicans."  ^ 

^^  But  the  citizens  of  America  must  be  diflferent 
from  the  regicides  of  Fttmce,"  said  the  Marquis  de^ 
Beaucaire.     "The  United  States  was  the  ally  of 
our  martyred  Louis  sixteenth." 

"There  are  Worthy  peotple  in  America,"  said? 
Theodore,  with  Warmth;    "  You  could  not,  m^^ 
father,  how  diiferent  soever  your  political  opinions  * 
may  be,  avoid  loving  the  generous  man,  who  re«^ 
ceived,  adopted  and  ^ucated  me." 

"You  must  to-morrow  relate  to  me  all  the  parti-' 
culars  of  your  life,"  said  Mons.  de  Beaucaire^  "and^^ 
we  must  endeavor  to  reimburse  the  kind  Americaiiv' 
for  the  expenses  of  your  education." 

"He  is  above  it,?' said  Theodore.'    "He  would' 
receive  such  a  proposal  afian  affront.     It  was  with« 
the  utmost  difficulty  that  we  prevailed  on  him  to 
retain,  as  a  marriage  portion  lor  his  ^daughter,  five; 
hundred'dollafs,  with  its  accumulated  interest  for 
fourteen  years,  that  he  had  invested  in  the  bank  in 
my  name,  when  he  thought  me  a  destitute  orphan. - 
And,  as  for  five  •  hundred  acres  of  land,  that  he 
gave  me,  he  would  on  no  account  consent  to  have 
it  restored,  but  insisted  that  it  should  still  remain 
mine,'  a  refuge  in  case  of  any  unforsesa  exigency  of 
fortune." 

"  Is  he  rich  ?"  enquired  the  old  gentleman. 

*•  He  is  rich  in  independence,"  replied  the  youth,. 
"  though  like  Cincinnatus,  he  holds  the  plough  aud> 
cultivates  the  eartli."  # 


;gv 


i 


"'♦'fS 


!":'! 


il'ti* 


X'V'^y 


;!' 


\ 


"  t 


r^ 


sii-^- 


11'8 


^^Agriculture  walancieiUly  aciwunted  Ian  honor* 
Hble  employment,''  said  Mons.  de  Beaucaire. 

*^It  b  Jtitl  considered  such  in  America,''  repHed 
his  son.  "Men,  who  have  held  the  phni^)  leald 
their  armies  and  govern  the  state." 

*^  You  would  be  amused,  mj  iathei',''  said  de-  Ln- 
nevilley  at  observing  the  pridet>f  those  would  be 
modem  Cincinikatus ;  and  so  classical  are  they,  that 
their  most  insi^ficant^illage»  bear  tbn^' names  of 
tfaie  most  celebrated  places  of  ancient  lore,  and 
their  towna  are  called,  oy  the  high  sounding  appel- 
lations of  untiquity.'^*  "But  no  conhtiy  in  the 
world  can'  ecjual  the  wild  magnificence  of  American 
scenery,"  said  Count  Leuchenbur^.  "In  Europe 
we  have  brt,  but  in  America  -todis^ited  nature." 

In  sinillar  conversation,  the  evening  paased  away. 
After  The«dofe  retired  to  rest^  it  was  long  before 
slfeep  visited  his'  eye  lids."  He  had  abundiDt  food  ' 
for  reflection,  and,  when  he  at  length  akunbercd, 
he  dreamt  of  nothing  but  counts,  aonan^  and  ' 
nobles.  . 

Theodore  greatljT'tesembled  hii  deceased  niother.  ' 
This  waa^tbe  ckie  -to  his  father's  heart.    The  old 
gentleman  soon  bofcame  very  fond  of  this  newly  re- 
covered son,  and  ^11  his  anxiety  was  liow  to  intro- 
duce him  properly  m  the  wdrld. 

The  little  Austrian  estate  was  but  i  mere  Com- 
petency to  a  nobleman,  accustomed  to  habits  of 
luxury,  and  this,  trifling  as  it  was,  descended  en- 
tirely to  the  eldest  son.  Young  de  Clermont  had, 
inAjnerica,  been  taught  to  famp  himself;ibut  of 
what  service  was  the  art  of  hewing  wood,  making 
fences,  &c.  to  a  young  nobleman.  In  the  then  state 
ofEurope,  his  lather  could  not  place  him  in  the 
army.  All  this  perplexed  the  old  gentleman.  ^'But 
Theodore  is  still  young,"  thought  he,  "we  must  now 
study  to  makeup  the  deficiencies  of  his  education, 


# 


r 


■H-' 
119 


■.4.. 


rand  perhaps  it  may  then  he  feasible  to  place  him  in 
the  Austrian  service." 

The  Marquis,  however,  soon  discovered  himself 
agreeably  deceived  in  his  opinion -of  his  son^s  ac- 
quirements, who  knew  something  of  whatever  they 
wished  to  teach  him.  But  it  was  his. knowledge  in 
the  theory  of  tactics,  that,  most  delighted  the  old 
gentleman. 

^*My  son,''  cried  he,  in  raptures,  when  he  first 
made  this  discovery,  "  I  shall  yet  see  you  a  geiier*  ^ 
al."  Theodore  applied  himself  very  diligently  to 
the  studies  pointed  out  by  his  father^  He  also  vi- 
sited Vienna,  with  Count  Leuchenburg  and  de  Lu- 
neville,  when  he  became  more  initiated  in  the  ways 
^f  the  ^reat  world. 


i 


m- 


.-# 


# 


130 


^ip^P. 


CHAPTER  X. 


**  Wliat  are  those  (aJes  of  Europe*!  fate^ 

.Ot  Aiijout  and  the  Spj»ui»b  irowii ; 
^  And  leaK"^"  (o  pull  u&urper*)  4lown  ? 

^  Of  iDarcblng  artnits,  difitani  'wara ; 

Of  ractious,  airddoineMicjars-?'* 

HtOBSB. 

THE  quiet  tenor  of  Theodore's  studies  was  now 
i^interruptcd  by  rumours  from-Russia.  Buonaparte 
liud  failed  in  his  intended  conquests.  The  mighty 
armies  he  had  led  into  those  frozen  regions,  were 
nearly  annihilated.  They  had  fallen- victims  to  the 
insatiable  ambition  of  their  leader. 

The  friends  of  the  Bourbon's  now  began  to  look 
forward  with  hope.  Every  da^  i,orae  new  account 
of  the  Corsican's  disasters  reached  the  retreat  of  the 
Marquis  dc  Beaucaire.  "My  son,"  said  he,  one 
day,  to  Theodore,  "the  period  of  our  supine  inactiv- 
ity is  nearly  at  an  end.  I  forsee  that  the  Emperor 
of  Austria  will  join  Russia.  They  will  declare  for 
the  Bourbons,  and  we  shall  see  Louis  the  eighteenth 
restored  to  the  throne  of  his  ancestors.  Your  ac- 
quirements and  abihties,  Theodore  de  Clermont, 
will  then  have  room  to  display  themselves.  En 
attendant^  my  son,  be  diligent  in  prosecuting  the 
studies  you  are  engaged  in." 

Ambition  and  the  desire  of  distinguislung  himself, 
which  had  hitherto  lain  domrmnt  in  the  bosom  of 
Theodore,  began  now  to  display  themselves.  His 
eyes  brightened,  and  his  bosom  glowed,  at  the  words 
of  the  Marquis.  "My  father,"  cried  he,  with  en- 
thusiasm, "your  son,  though  reared  in  the  wilds  of 
America,  will  not  disgrace  the  Marquis  de  Beau- 
caire." -^ 

Is  this  then  the  adopted  son  of  America,  who  is 
so  ready  to  fight  the  battles  of  despots,  so  eagei*  t© 


4#'    J^ 


^ 


I2f 


«». 


raise  his  arm  to  restore  a  monarch  to  a  tli|one,  from 
whence  he  was  expelled  by  his  people,  weary  of 
Hheir  yoke  of  servitude  ?  Where  is  now  his  late  love 
of  liberty?  What  has  become  of  his  sentiments  of 
justice,  of  liberality,  of  the  rights  of  man?  Alas! 
they  have  evaporated,  before  the  contagion  of  exaiA* 
pie.  Daily  accustomed  to  hear  the  father  he  revered, 
the  friends  he  respected,  complain  of  the  wrongs 
Iheir  monarchs,  themselves,  and  their  emi;jrant 
brethren  had  suflfered,  he  was  led  to  take  an  inter- 
est in  their  misfortunes.  Generosity  enlisted  on 
their  side  and  induced  him  to  wish  to  redress  their 
wrongs.  He  still  believed  his  principles  unchanged. 
His  feelings  were  still  awakened,  at  the  name  of  lib- 
erty; but,  strange  inconsistency  of  human  nature, 
he  was  ready  and  willing  to  enforce  a  system  of 
government  on  an  independent  people.  Become 
a  member  of  the  aristocratical  body,  he  impercep- 
tibly imbibed  their  sentiments,  and  love  of  power. 

Some  time  after  this  conversation,  the  Austrian 
minister  called  on  the  Marquis  de  Bcaucaire,  who 
was  an  old  acquaintance,  and  offered  him  the  com- 
mand of  a  regiment,  and  commissions  in  it  for  his 
two  sons.  The  marquis  ioyfully  accepted  the  pro- 
posal ;  for  he  already  in  invagination  saw  Louis  the 
eighteenth  seated  on  the  throne  of  France,  and  him- 
self restored  to  his  native  country,  and  hereditary 
tstate.  De  Luneville  was  delighted.  He  possses- 
sed  all  the  gallantry  and  bravery  of  his  countrymen. 
Theodore  certainly  felt  a  degree  of  vanity,  when  he 
first  viewed  himself  in  regimentals.  Mons.  de  Beau- 
caire  and  his  sons  joined  their  regiment,  which  was 
then  in  garrison  on  the  borders  of  Bohemia. 

The  great  confederacy  was  now  forming.  Au- 
stria soon  declared  itself,  and  the  allies  prepared  to 
march  into  France. 

The  result  of  the  campaign  v  well  known.     The 

11 


i 


'*^'  ,ii 


122 


M  ill 


allies  toolf  possession  of  Paris.  The  sooci  fortune 
of  tlic  extraordinary  Corsican  now  Tonook  him. 
He  was  deposed  and  exiled  to  Elba,  while  Louis  ;he 
,  eighteenth  was  seated  on  the  throne  of  Charlemagne, 
'  and  surrounded  by  his  emierant  nobility,  who  flock- 
ed from  all  parts  at  this  joyful  revolution. 

The  regiment  commanded  by  the  Marquis  de 
J^eaucaire  had  greatly  distinguished  itself,  llie  di- 
vision of  the  army,  to  which  it  belonged,  re-echoed 
with  the  braycry  and  good  conduct  of  Mons.  do 
Beaucaire,  while  the  gallantry  of  his  sons,  was  high- 
ly extolled. 

The  Marquis's  good  fortune  was  likewise  con- 
spicuous. The  possessor  of  his  patrimony,  a  Gene- 
ral in  Buonaparte's  army,  had,  with  his  son  and 
nephew,  perished  in  the  Russian  campaign,  and 
Mons.  de  Beaucaire's  whole  estate  was  now  uncon- 
ditionally restored  to  him.  His  sons,  who  wished 
to  quit  the  Austrian  service  for  that  of  their  native 
country,  also  received  commissions  in  diflerent  re- 
giments. 

The  Marquis,  with  a  joyful  heart,  made  his/conge 
at  court,  and  set  forward  for  Provence.  Theodore 
accompanied  him,  while  de  Luneville  remained  at 
Paris.  They  travelled  on  horse  back,  with  a  small 
retinue. 

The  sun  had  passed  its  meridian.  They  were 
riding  silently  through  a  grove  of  olives.  Mons. 
de  Beaucaire  paused  at  the  summit  of  an  eminence. 
," Look  around,  my  son,"  exclaimed  he.  ""Behold 
.thy  native  country.  See  it  rich  in  oil  and  in  wine. 
See  it  fruitful  in  all  the  necessaries  and  luxuries  oi^ 
life.  Behold  a  far  tlie  Mediterranean.  Observe 
yonder  hill,  surrounded  with  trees.  At  its  foot  lies 
our  paternal  domain,  which  was  wrested  from  us 
by  those  unprincipled  regicides ;  but,  praised  be 
God;  our  own  is  restored.     Presently,  I'hrodore 


.^' 


133 


ic  Clermont  shall  you  see  the  noble  chateau,  ia 
which  you  first  breathed  the  vital  air.^' 

The  old  gentleman  gave  reins  to  his  horse.  The 
whole  cavalcade  galloped  after  him.  The  road  led 
to  the  top  of  the  emmencc  he  had  pointed  out. 
Elated  with  hope,  the  Marquis  rode  forward.  He 
passed  the  cluster  of  olives,  and  his  whole  native 
vallev  lay  extended  before  him.  He  suddenly 
checked  his  charger,  and  remained  silent  and  mo- 
tionless. Theodore  came  up  with  him,  and  paused 
by  his  side.  "  My  father,"  the  old  gentleman  start- 
ed. "  Theodore,  1  iust  now  promised  to  shew  you 
your  native  chateau  I  Behold  where  it  stood,"  and 
he  pointed  to  a  mis-shapen  mass  of  stones. 

^'The  foundation  of  that  chateau  wa»  laid  in  the 
reign  of  Charlemagne,  by  our  ancestor  Louis  Rei^i- 
nald  de  Clermont,  Marquis  de  Beaucairc,  and  it 
was  enlarged,  beautihed,  and  kept  in  constant  re- 
pair by  his  desr  idants.  Your  grand-father  added  • 
a  wing  in  the  modem  style.  Now  view  its  remains, 
my  son." 

*'Thus  trj»nsitory  is  human  greatness,"  said  The- 
odore. "Vain  man  endeavors  to  render  his  name 
and  perfori nances  immortal,  biit  sooii  oy  late,  fate 
overtakf-  both  him  and  them."  "Ah  Emilie !"  cri- 
ed th  gentleman,  not  heeding  the  words  of  his 
son,  '•  .  ay  remains  rest  in  a  foreign  soil.  Tnou 
hast  ,  en  spared  this  grievous  sight.  Oh  inournful 
prospect,  to  return  in  old  age,  to  behold  the  habit- 
ation of  our  early  youth  levelled  with  the  ground, 
our  former  connexions  annihilated,  and  scarcely  a 
remnant  of  former  scenery  remaining."  Old  Ge- 
rard, who  had  left  France  with  tlie  Marquis,  sym- 
pathised with  his  master;  the  others,  who  were 
strangers,  stood  respectfully  silent. 

The  horses  now  cast  their  shadows  forward.  The 
day  was  far  advanced.     "My  father,"  said  Thee- 


1^ 


^i;^!! 


t  i-Ti 


in. 


Ji: 


li>4 


i!:'-^. 


dore,  "shall  we  proceed  to  the  village  ?"  "  Alas^'* 
replied  the  old  gentleman,  "on  my  paternal  estate, 
I  have  no  longer  an  habitation.  But,  we  must  pass 
the  night  at  Beaucaire.  We  may  find  a  lodging 
with  some  of  my.  old  tenants,  but  probably  the  wor- 
thy arc  fled,  and  none  but  murderous  rebels  remain. 
Yet  no,  some  of  tlie  dependants  of  the  house  of 
Beaucaire  must  be  innocent."  He  gave  the  reins 
to  his  horse,  but  paused  opposite  the  ruins.  "It  is 
too  late,  my  father,  to  view  them  to  night,"  said 
Theodore,  endeavoring  to  dissipate  the  old  gentle* 
man's  melancholy.  Young  de  Clermont  moved  on. 
The  Marquis  slowly  followed.  They  entered  the 
village  and  stopped  at  the  inn.  The  host  came  to 
the  door,  bowing  obsequiously,  "Gentlemen,  will 
you  be  pleased  to  do  me  the  honor  to  alight  ?" 

"What  is  your  name?"  enquired  the  Marquis. 

"Pierre  de  La  vol.  Monsieur,  at  your  service." 
.    "Pierre  de  Lavol  was  a  wojpthy  man.'?       The 
Marquis  looked  up,  "  but  you  ^  a  young  man,  his 
hairs  were  gray." 

".Monsieur  then  knew  my  father  ?" 

"Where  is  he?" 

•'Ah  liioiliflieur,  he  has  been  dead  many  years." 

The  Miarauis  shook  his  head,  and  sighed.  "  I 
shall  not  find  an  old  acquaintance,"  murmured  he. 

"Will  Messieurs  be  pleased  to  alight?"  said  the 
host,  again  l^owioi;. 

The  Marquis  dismounted.  Theodore  and  his  at- 
tendants followed  liis  example.  He  pensively  en- 
tered the  Hotelerie,  an  aged,  but  apparently  active 
i\  i>man^  came  forward,  and  shewed  them  into  a  neat 
sanded  room.  "  What  will  Messieurs  be  pleased  to 
have  for  supper?"  enquired  she.  The  Marquis  rais* 
ed  his  eyes.     The  woman  varied  her  question. 

"I  have  seen  you  before,  my  good  woman,  but 
my  memory  is  confused.     Pray,  what  is  your  uame." 


*  J 


125 


?r 


^> 


"  Jeannette  Montfert,  Monsieur,  at  your  service." 

"  Are  you  indeed  Jeannette,  and  not  remember 
me  ?"  cried  the  Marquis,  hastily  rising. 

"  I  have  not  that  honor,"  said  she,  dropping  -a 
courtesy. 

"  I  am  the  Marquis  de  Beaucaire,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  raising  himself  with  dignity. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Beaucaire,"  cried  Je- 
annette,  "  Qut  dieu  soit  beni !  et  la  bonne  vierge  ! 
You  are  then  come  to  claim  your  own,  Monsieur  ? 
DUu  soit  beni !  beni  soit  la  sainte  Marie  ?  I  heard 
those  upstart  Pardos  had.  perished  in  that  frozen « 
Russia.  May  God  grant,  said  I,  when  I  heard  it, 
that  our  own  family  may  come  back,  and  claim  its 
own.  But  where  is  my  dear  lady  ?"  The  Marquis 
sighed.  "  Oh  she  is  then  in  Heaven,"  cried  Jean- 
nette,  "putting  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes." 
Then,  after  a  pause,  she  resumed,  "  but  where  is 
little  master,  my  dear  nurseling  ?" 

"  Kere  he  is,  Jeannette.  ,  Theodore,  this  is  your 
nurse." 

"  That  I  am  indeed,  young  gentleman.  At  this 
breast  you  were  nourished.;  but,  what  a  iine^oung 
gentleman  you  are  grown !  How  gre«^tly  you  re- 
semble my  lady." 

Theodore  shook  the  good  woman  by  the  hand; 
"  You  are  then  my  nurse,  said  he,  I  can  scalrcely 
remember  my  mother,  but  am  happy  to  find  one, 
to  whom  I  can  render  thank;^  for  lier  care  of  my  in- 
fancy." 

"And  good  care  I  took  of  you,  my  dear  cHld,** 
said  Jeannette.  "  But,  gentlemen,  you  will  w^t 
supper.     You  will  not  oa^to  your  own  housf  t^' 

"  My  chauteau  is  in  ri^s,"  exclaimed  thej^^tiiii^ 

"  You  mean  the  old  chateau,  that  was  destroyed  in 
the  revolution ;  but  the  Pardos,  who  by  soni^  means 
got  possession  of  the  estate,  have  with  its  revenues 

n* 


# 


f^ 


^ 


126 


built  quite  a  liandsome  mansion,  and  a  house  keep- 
er and  steward  reside  in  the  house.  Look  through 
this  window.  That  is  the  Hotel,  on  the  rise  of  yon- 
der hill."  She  pointedto  a  very  elegant  modem 
mansion. 

"The  tasteless  creatures,"  cried  the  Marquis,  "not 
even  to  have  chosen  the  site  of  the  old  chateau." 

"But,  my  father,"  said  Theodore,  "that  situation 
is  far  more  picturesque.  It  appears  to  command  an 
extensive  prospect,only  terminated  by  the  Mediter- 
ranean. A  pleasant  rivulet  winds  round  the  base  of 
the  hill ;  and  what  lofty  trees  crown  the  summit.  I 
think  it  a  charming  retreat." 

"You  do  not  remember  the  old  chateau,"  said  his 
father.  "You  cannot  recollect  its  gothic  grandeur." 
.  "Monsieur  le  Marquis,  and  Monsieur  Theodore 
will  take  supper  here?"  enquired  Jeannette. 

"  Yes,  good  nurse,"  repHed  the  old  gentleman, 
"and  can  you  provide  us  with  beds?  for  my  spirits 
are  not  equal  to  viewing  this  new  mansion  tonight." 
"AhMon8ieur,you  do  us  honor,"  cried  Jeannette, 
"but  Monsieur  le  Marquis  de  Beaucaire  shall  com- 
mand^ the  best  accommodations  in  this  house." 

Jeannette  hastened  out  to  provide  supper.  The- 
odore, observing  the  gathering  melancholy  on  his 
father's  countenance,  endeavoured  to  engage  him  in 
conversation. 

'Is  this  then  the  good  woman,  who  performed  the 
office  of  a  mother  to  me  ?" 
"  She  nursed  you,  Theodore." 
"Probably,  then,  my  mother  was  afflicted  with  ill 
health?" 

"No,  my  Emilie  enjoyed  an  excellent  constitu- 
tion." 

"Indeed ;  then  this  wom^n  was  only  an  assistant 
to  my  mother?"  | 

"  You  often  forget  your  liirth,  rf»"  «on-      You  do 


.m 


n  s©^ 


■:«. 


127 


not  consider,  that  what  is  very  natural  for  the  wife 
of  a  farmer  or  merchant,  would  ill  become  a  Mar- 
chioness." ' 

"Ah,  my  father,  I  thought  the  ties  of  nature  were 
equally  binding  among  all  ranks." 

The  entrance  of  Jeannette  prevented  an  answer. 
She  was  followed  by  a  smart  looking  young  woman. 
"Monsieur  le  Marquis,  this  is  my  daughter,  Ma- 
rion, the  only  child  I  have  now  left  me;  for  your 
foster  brother  Claude,  Monsieur  Theodore,  was  ta- 
ken from  me  by  the  proscription ;  he  rose  to  be  a 
Captain,  that  is  true;  but  what  was  that  to  me?  Hi^.. 
perished  in  the  wars,  and  I  Jost  nny  only  son." 

Marion  dropped  a  courtesy.  Theodore  who  had 
not  forgotten  his  American  breeding,  bowed  in  re- 
turn. The  Marquis  said,  "I  am  glad  Jeannnette, 
that  amidst  the  devastations  that  have  afflicted 
France,  ^ou  have  reserved  one  child,  yrh&  appears 
very  dutiful."' 

"Yes,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  Marion  is  wife  to 
Pierre  de  Lavol,  and  mistress  of  this  house.  I  have 
resided  with  her,  since  her  marriage." 

The  Marquis  and  his  son  seated  themselves  at  the- 
supper  table,  which  was  covered  wi£h.,the  best  fare 
the  house  afforded. 

"  But,  Jeannette^"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "did 
you  not  say  there  were  servants  at  ^s  new  maor 
sion?"  ,f 

"Yes,  Monsieur,  the  son  of  old  Francis  Marche- 
main  is  steward  there;  and  dom  not  Monsieur  (e 
Marquis  remember  tlie  livelv  little  Madelen,  whoiio 
my  lady  took  to  attend  on  Master  Louis  ?  Well  she 
is  wife  to  Marchemain,  and  housekeeper  at  the  Ho- 
tel." '  ^ 

^^ Really,"  said  the  Marquis,  "then  I  shall  meet 
with  old  acquaintance." 
'^The  plague  take  tbem^''  said  Jeannette,    "  I 


% 


ISi'i 


I  "11 


{■■'  il 


(.  ■:^ 


128 


ucvcr  could  forgive  tliem,  for  consenting  to  serve 
tiiose  new  masters,  the.  Pardos;  and  then,  they  car- 
ry their  heads  so  high.  They  haye  contrived  to  get 
into  their  hands  some  land  of  their  own,  which  ren- 
ders their  pride  intolerable,  and  they  now  carry  all 
things  with  a  high  hand.^' 

"Every  thing  is  changed,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 
^'  But  who  now  occupies  the  estate  of  the  Marquis 
des  Abbayes?" 

"Ah  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  there  are  strange  chan- 
ges in  that  quarter.  In  the  reign  of  terror.  Monsieur 
le  Marquis  and  Madame  la  Marquise  des  Abbayes, 
witli  their  two  sons,  and  three  daughters,  were  drag- 
ged to  prison,  and  all,  except  Mademoiselle  Sophia, 
we.re  guillotined  as  aristocrats.  The  nephew  of 
the  then  magistrate,  who  had  been  a  tailor,  saw 
Mademoiselle  Sophia,  on  the  day  of  trial,  and  fell 
in  love  with  her.  He  begged  her  life  of  his  uncle, 
who  agreed  to  save  her,  if  she  would  marry  his 
nephew*  Mademoiselle  Sophia  was  accordingly 
espited,  when  all  her  family  perished.  Du  Monier 
afterwards  presented  himself  to  her  in  prison,  and 
informed  her,  that  he  could  procure  her  release,  if 
she  would  marry  him.  De  Monier  was  quite  a  pas- 
sable young  man,  and  spoke  much  of  his  love ;  but 
then,  could  Mademoiselle  des  Abbayes  accept  the 
hand  of  a  grocer?  She,  however,  soon  found  that 
there  was  no  other  means  of  saving  her  life :  they 
were  accordingly  married.  Du  Monier  became  an 
army  contractor,  accumulated  an  iinmense  fortune, 
and  has  purchased  all  the  estates  that  belonged  to 
the  family  des  Abbayes,  with  several  others  m  the 
neighbourhood.  .  He  was  himself  created  Marquis 
des  Abbayes,  by  Buonaparte." 

"Shocking!"  exclaimed  Mons.  de  Beaucaire* 
Jeannette  (  ^nti^ued,  "  Madame  has  been  dead 
these  two  years.    Tfhey  say  she  lived  very  happily; 


12^ 


for  du  Mpmer  that  was,  Monsi  le  Marquis  des  Ab» 
ba yes  that  is,  was  always  very  kind  to  her.  She  has 
left  an  only  daughter,  who  is  cried  up  as  a  paragon 
of  perfection.  She  was  educated  in  Paris,  and  is  in 
truth  very  pretty,  and  very  clever,  though  not  the 
lady  her  mother  was.  How  should  she  be  ?  For  she 
must  take  a  little  after  her  papa :  but  in  titith,  Mad* 
emoiselle  Sophia  des  Abbayes  is  very  good  to  poor 
people,  remertibering  no  doUbt,  that  her  father  was 
no  better  once  himself;  but  then,  indeed,  she  has 
good  blood  on  her  mother's  side." 

"Some  of  the  best  blood  in  France,"  cried  Mons. 
de  Beaucaire.  "Pity  that  its  clearness  should  be 
contaminated  with  such  base  puddle,  tailors  and 
grocers  indeed !  Oh  my  poor  old  friend  des  Abbayes, 
and  his  amiable  Marchioness^nd  their  fine  children, 
ah,  wretched  France." 

"  But  m3r  father,"  said  Theodore,  "can  you  think 
that  there  is  any  real  difference  in  the  quality  of 
blood  ?  I  think  the  family  fortunate,  that  amidst  the 
ruin  which  overwhelmed  its  members,  one  of  them 
should  be  saved  from  the  general  wreck,  aoid^  still 
enjoy  the  property  of  her  ancestors." 

"Theodore,  m^son,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentle- 
man, "  but  you  are  excusable.  These  sentiaieats 
are  the  effect  of  your  education." 

"I  was  educated  by  a  worthy  man,"  said  de  Cler- 
mont» 

"He  was  indeed  kind  to  you,"  observed  the  Mar^ 
quis,  "  but  not  a  fit  preceptor  for  a  descendant  of  the 
house  de  Clermont." 

Theodore  not  wishing  to-  irritate  the  melan  oly 
mood  of  his  father,  discontinued  the  subject. 

"  But,  Jeannette,"  resumied  the  old  gentleman^ 
"v/ho  now  possesses  the  estate  of  Mons.  de  Beau- 
mont |  I  saw  the  old  chateau  still  standing,  as  I  pas- 
sed it  this  afternoon,  though  it  appeared  in  a  very 
shattered  condition." 


w     I 


'  ♦'I 


■*fld 


'■'■1% 


»1;>}S 


r30 


* 


''The  old  Count  himself,"  replied  the  nurse. 
''Mons.  de  Beaumont  took  advantage  of  the  procla- 
mation inviting  the  retunl  of  emigrants,  and  obtain- 
ed a  restitution  of  part  of  his  est&te;  but  so  many 
free  farms  have  been  granted  from  it,  that  the  re- 
maining portion  is  very  small.  Every  thing  was 
gone  to  ruin,  and  the  Count  is  unable  to  repair  the 
chateau,  but  has  fitted  up  one  wing,  where  he  now 
resides." 

*'I  have  then  one  old  fviend  living,"  said  the  Mar- 
quis. "Praised  be  God!  But  where  is  Monsieur  de 
Beaumont's  family  ?" 

"He  has  but  one  son  remainiing,"  replied  Jean- 
nette,  "Who  is  serving  in  the  army." 

"  I  hope  he  may  have  the  good  fortune  to  retrieve 
the  former  splendour  of  his  house,"  said  the  Mar- 
quis de  BiBaucaire." 

"  They  say  he  is  seeking  a  rich  niarriage,"  said  the 
nurse,  "and  it  is  reported  that  he  is  endeavouring  to 
pay  his  addresses  to  Mad.lle  des  Abbayes,  but  that 
she  will  net  Hsten  to  young  Mons.  de  Beaumont." 

"  The  grocer's  daughter,"  cried  Mons.  de  Beau- 
caire,  "  and  will  de  Beaumont  consent  to  that  ?" 

"It  would  be  the  retrieving  of  their  family,"  Jean- 
nette,  and  then  Mademoselle  Soptiia,  is'the  heiress 
and  descendant  of  the  des  Abbayes  family." 
•  "Poh!"  cried  the  Marquis,  retreating  from'^'the 
table,  "but  good  Jeannette,  have  you  a  bed  forme; 
for  I  am  much  wearied  ?"  ^^  ^ 

A  bed  was  prepared,  an<Fthe  ola  gentleman  soon 
retired.  The  moon  rose  resplendent  in  the  heav- 
ens. Innumerable  stitrs  glittered  in  the  filosament. 
The  air  was  serene  and  mild.  Theodore  iJK.alked 
out.  His  steps  turned  towards  the  ruins  of  tne  old 
chateau,  the  monumental  remains  of  the  feudal  gran- 
deur of  his  ancestors.  There  was  a  sublimity^n  the 
acene.     Theodore  experienced  i^^^gensive  effects^ 


V  > 


isi 


^^ My  ancestors,"  thought  he,  "reigned  here,  witli 
the  splendour  and  power  of  princes  J'  His  thoughts 
recurred  to  the  days  of  other  limes.  His  imagination 
trasported  him  back  to  the  reign  of  feudal  power,  of 
chivalric  gallantry,  when  some  bold  cavalier  had  is- 
sued from  the  loi|y  portal,  to  merit  his  lady's  love, 
by  feats  of  arms.  Something  touched  hi&  foot.  He 
started.  A  toad  was  crawling  over  it.  "Vile  rep- 
tile," apostrophised  de  Clermont,  "thou  art  then 
proprietor  here,  ai^d  thinkest  the  descendant  of[  the 
ancient  possessors  of  the  chateau,  an  intruder? 
Sic  transit  gloria  mundi.  This  princely  mansion  is 
laid  in  ruins.  Its  lords  have  been  exiles,  .and  wan- 
derers on  the.  face  of  the  earth.  True,  ^they  now 
return^  but  is  the  view  of  this  mass  iof  desolation 
calculated  to  inspire  them  with  happiness?  My  fa- 
ther appears  over  whelmed  with  regret.  My  bro- 
ther the  heir  of  the  family  is  wholly  occupied  with 
his  pleasures,  and  seems  in  no  haste  to  revisit  the 
scenes  of  his  birth.  l\e  i&  satisfied,  if  the  j«nt  of 
the  estate  will  defray,  the  expenses  of  his  Paqsian 
establishment.  Do  I  feel  happier  in  this  seat  of  my 
ancestors,  than  I, did  in  the  wilds  of  America?  I 
think  not.  Should  I  strike  a  balance,  the, account 
would  not  preponderate  in  favour  of  Europe.  I  was 
happy  amidst  the  primitive  simplicity  of  Tonnewon- 
te.  I  was  happy  in  the  bosom  of  my  adopted  fami- 
ly; and  I  contributed  to  their  happiness.  Do  they 
still  thinjc  of  thoii'  ab^i]^  Theod,ore?  Yes,  my  heart 
assures  me,  that  they  have  not  forgotten  their  belov- 
ed friend;  and  1  too  will  never  forget  the  naive  Ev- 
elina, tl^  truly  motherly  aunt  Martha,  the  worthy 
Captiin  Marvin.  But  lam  pow  a  Frenchman.  J 
n^ust  think  and  act  li^e  ^'heodore  de  Clermont,  and 
I  mi^  comfort  and  cherish  my  father."  With  this 
win^g  up  of  .his  reverie,  he  returned  to  the  inn, 
jund  soon  enjoyed  the  sweet  oblivion  of  sleep. 


»!: 


IS 


4' 


*- 


132 


"t 


Report  soon  spread  through  the  village  tlie  arri- 
val of  Marquis  de  Beaucaire.  The  Marquis  had,  in 
his  youth,  been  much  beloved  for  his  courtesy  and 
affability.  A  new  generation  had  now  arisen,  who 
knew  him  not;  but  a  few  ancients  remained.  To 
them  the  return  of  the  old  Marquis  was  an  epoch  of 
jo^.  They  should  now  have  their  landlord  residing 
with  them,  and  they  promised  themselves  a  revival 
of  the  good  old  times.  These  communicated  their 
hopes  and  expectations,  to  the  younger  inhabitants. 
Enthusiasm  began  to  enkindle  among  the  villagers, 
and  the  Marquis  was  awakened,  the  following  morn* 
ing,  witl^  cries  of  "  Vive  la  maispn  de  Beaucaire,  Vive 
Monsieur  le  Marquis P^  lie  arose,  and  walked  to- 
wards the  window.  The  crowd  hailed  him,  with 
great  demonstrations  of  enthusiastic  joy.  * 

"  This  reminds  me  of  former  days,"  said  tlie  old 
gentleman  to  Iris  son.  "  The  Marquises  de  Beau- 
caire, were  always  thus  hailed.  -Go,  my  son,  bid 
Pierre  deLavol  not  spare  his  wine.  Let  them  drink 
the  restoration  of  the  ancient  house  de  Beaucaire." 
Theodore  obeyed  his  father.  He  wished  not  to 
damp  the  pleasant  feelings  of  the  old  gentleman. 
**But,  how  vain  is  it,"  thought  he,  "  to  p^^y  attention 
to  the  frantic  exclamations  of  the  multitude!  In  the 
same  manner  were  these  mobs  enkindled,  when  they 
furiously  rased  chateaus,  and  exterminated  wholl 
families.  A  breath  blows  them  h||g|,|ii  there,  liet 
their  passions  but  be  excited^  auidlB%  are^for  OB© 
thing  to-day,  for  another  to-morrow." 

The  Marquis  nwv  prepared  to  take  possess!^  oC 
his  new  mansion,  lia  mounted  his  horse,  ilis  son 
and  €ervants  accomj^ied  him.  As  they  tkme  in 
view  of  the  house,  Mons.  de  Beaucaire  paused,  to 
examine  it.  It  was  a  very  neat  structure,  bujjl  in  a 
modern  style,  at  the  summit  0  aor^minence,  that 
Commanded  an  extensive  prospect  W  the  Mediter- 


.# 


^  « 


'*- 


f53 


rancan,  and  the  surrounding  country.  "  This,  then,"' 
murmured  the  Marquis,  ^*  is  the  citizen-hke  estah- 
Kshment,  that  I  am  to  receive,  in  heu  of  the  venera- 
ble chateau  of  my  ancestors." 

*^The  situation  is  finely  chosen,"  observed  The- 
odore. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  said  his  father,  "  could  you  have 
seen  our  venerable  and  magnificent  chateau,  you 
might  then  have  spokenof  situation  and  effect,  but 
it  has  passed  away;  I  too  must  soon  pass  away,  and 
be  forgotten." 

"My  father,' 'exclaimed  Theodore.  The  Mar- 
quis moved  foward.  They  -were  received  at  the 
gate  by  Marchemain,'who  gravely  welcomed  Mons. 
(le  Beaucai«e.  ^ 

"I  am  happy  to  «ee  you,  Marclicmain,  in  so  eli- 
gible a  situation,"  said  the  Marquis,  "but  it  seems 
you  have  lost  a  master." 

"  I  have  recovered  my  first  master,"  said  the  stew- 
ard, "and  I  heartily  congratulate  you.  Monsieur  le 
Marquis  de  Beaucaire,  on  your  restoration  to  your 
hereditary  rights ;  and  am  ready  to  settle  -accounts 
with  whomsoever  Monsieur  may  think  proper  tp 
employ." 

"You  did  well,  Marcbemain,"  replied  the  Mar- 
quis, "to  serve  a  master,  who' was  able  to  reward 
you.  Now  no  doubt,  you  will  serve  your  ancient 
fjoi^,  with  eqnsA  zeal.  Come,  sliew  us  the  house  ; 
and  have  a  good  breakfast  ready ;  for  we  are  still 
fasting." 

"Madelon  has  forseen  tha|^  Monsieur  le  Marquis, 
and  y«^  lyill  find  breakfast in-i'Cadiness." 

He  conducted  them  into  a^*^legant  saloon,  fron- 
ting a  terrace,  that  looked  towards  tlic  Mediterrar 
neaa,^  Theodore  was  delighted  with  the  exteftsive 
prospfct.  Th©:  Marquis  looked  a  moment  on  the 
larrace;  then  seated  himself  at  the  breakfast  table. 


I'M 

m 

t'n 


12 


# 


m 


I   s 


1J4 

Madclon,  or  as  she  was  now  called,  Madame  Mar- 
chcmain,  appeared,  to  pay  her  respects  to  the  Mar- 
quis. She  was  a  woman  of  ahout  thirty-nine,  with 
quite  a  genteel  exterior,  and  was  dressed  very  tastily. 

"Monsieur  le  Marquis/'  said  she,  advancing  with 
great  ease,  "you  are  welcome  to  Beaucaire ;  and 
we  are  rejoiced  to  see  you  once  more  amongst  us. 
Is  this  young  gentleman  youf  son.  Monsieur  Louis, 
whom  I  had  once  the  honour  to  have  in  charge  ?" 

"This  is  my  youngest  son,  Theodore;  but  I  am 
happy  to  see  you,  Madelon,  in  such  improved  cir- 
cumstances. I  find  that  all  the  dependants  of  our 
house,  did  not  fall  with  the  principals." 

"Why^  indeed,  Monsieur  le  jKlarquis,  we  have, 
thank  God,  been  pretty  fortunate,  and  Marchemain 
i3,^  thank  fortune,  rather  clear  of  the  world,  that  is, 
for  people  in  our  condition." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  Madelon;  you  have,  I  see, 
provided  us  with  a  very  good  breakfast.  That  was 
very  considerate  in  you,  as  we  sent  you  no  warning 
of  our  approach." 

"  I  hope  Monsieur  le  Marquis  will  relish  it.  I  wi]l 
go  and  send  up  the  coffee,"  said  Madelon. 

"How  every  thing  is  chan|ed,".gaid  the  old  gen- 
tleman, as  she  went  out.  "That  well  dressed  wo- 
man, with  her  ail's  of  consequence,  was  once  the 
lively  paysanne  Madelon.  You  are  a  good  accomp- 
tant,  Theodore.  I  must  employ  you  to  look  over 
this  steward's  papers.  If  he  prove  honest,  we  will 
emoloyhim;  if  not,  he  must  seek  elseyvhere." 

by  degrees  the  Marqijis  became  rpore  reconciled 
to  the  changes  which  surrounded  him.  All  the  an- 
cient depeudanis  gfjljis  family  were  eager  to  pay 
their  court  to  their  former  lord,  who  was  equally 
desirous  to  seek  them  out.  But  Jeannette  Y^as  le 
Marquis's  principal  favorite,  and  soon  became  equal- 
ly acceptable  to  her  foster  son.     Her  daughter  had 


^m''^^ 


135 


aiargc  family,  and  they  were  not  in  very  easy  cir- 
cumstances. Monsieur  de  Beaucaire  was  never 
v/earied  with  hearing  her  stories  of  old  times ;  and 
Theodore  found  hdr  a  faithful  chronicle  of  modem, 
as  well  as  ancient  events,  tllitt  had  occurred  in  the 
neighbourhood.  The  Mttrqnis  became  anx^.ous  tc 
establish  her  at  his  mansion;  but  he  was  at  a  loss  in 
what  capacity  to  place  her.  Madelon  was  house- 
keeper^  arid  faer  husband  was  discovered  to  be  a  val- 
uable steward,  whom  the  Marquis  did  not  care  to 
disobliges  Jeannctte  was,  however,  invited  to  re- 
side at  the  Hotel  de  Bieaucaire,  which  invitation  8h« 
gladly  accepted.  Her  occupations  were  not  deimed ; 
^)ut  she  bustled  about  amazinfi^,  and  soon  engros* 
s^  all  directions.  This  didnot  please  Madelon,' 
who  had  long  held  her  head  above  Jeamiette,  and 
had  been  accustomed  td  the  deference  of  Her  former 
companions.  She  now  complained  to  her  husband, 
accusing  Jeahnette  of  impertmence,  in  presuming  to 
dictate  and  interfere' ^thhef.  - 

"  Does>  Monsieur  le  Marquis,"  cried  she,  '4hink 
that  t  will  put  up  with  the  msolehcc  of  this  Jean- 
hette  ?" 

"Ma  chere  Madelon,"  replied  Marchemai'n,  "let 
us  retire  to  the  house  I  have  built  on  our  litthie  pro- 
priete.  If  it  please  Monsieur  de  Beaucaire  to  re- 
tiain  me  land-steward,  it  is  well;  if  not,  we  hiave, 
thank  God,  sufBticnt  to  live  upon." 

Madelon  readily  consented  to  be  mistiress  of  a 
house  of  her  own.  The  Marquis  made  no  objettibn*, 
but  retained  M^rchemain  land-steward ;  and  Jean- 
liette  Was  formally  inducted  in  the  office  of  housie- 
keeper  at  the  Hotel  de  Beaucaire. 

Most  of  the  neighbouring  gentlemen  called  t(f<^bn- 
gratulate  the  Marquis  de  Beaucaire  on  iiis  retH^i^^ 
tionto  his  patrimony;  and  he  I'ecogmsed,  amd^t 
these,  some  few  of  his  old  acquaintance;  but  thiev 


If 


Wr 


..Wbbi- 


I3ii 

were  ipostly  new  men,  whom  he  did  not  fqellnxiou^ 
to  associate  with..  ^^My  son,'^  said  the  Marquis  to. 
Theodore,  *^you  may,  if  you  please,  return  these  vis- 
its. The  political  changes  of  our  unfortunate  coun- 
try have  raised  these  pevsons  to  the  rank  of  gentle- 
man. They  are  now,  it  seems,  vifiited  by  our  oldest, 
families.  It  is  good  to  live  in  union  with. our  neighs, 
hours ;  but pn  you,  Theodore,.!  devolve  that  charge. 
1  am  an  ojd  man;,  and  am. not  desirous •  of  new  ac- 
quaintance, .or  society.  I  only  wish  to  pass  the  few. 
days  that: remaia  to.  me^  in.  peace,  and  mv  native, 
country,  and  to  cherish  old  scenes,  and  old  recol- 
lections. My  lojBses  are  great.  The  chateau  of  my 
ancestors  Is  destroyed.  Ypur  mother  is  no  .more ; 
but  I  must  acquire  r^Kguatien,  and  study  to  mak^ 
aay  peace  with  God." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation,  an  elegant 
Carriage  drove. up.  the  avenue,  attended  by  servants, 
in  magnificent  liveries.  Two  gentlemen  alighted,, 
the  one  very  splendidly  dressed,  the  other  a  venera-. 
ble  oldgentleman,  with  silver  hair,  in  a  plain  suitof 
black.  Theodore  happene4.J|P  he  by  the.  window-,) 
and  was  inwardly  commentinj|P^n  tlie  contrast  their, 
appearance  .presented,  when  a  servant  announced 
Monsieur  le  Marquis  des  Abbaycs,  and  Monsieur  la 
Comte  de  Beaun»ont. . "  Have  they  come  together," 
cried  Mons*  de  Beaucaire^  Theodore  hastened  to 
the  door,  to  receive  them.  He  bowed  low  to  the 
venerable,  tigiire  of  Mons.de  Beaumoat,  and  polite- 
ly to  the  Marquis  des  Abbayes.  Monsieurs  de  Beau- 
mont, and  de  Beaucairo  embraced.  ^'Welcome, 
thrice  welcome  home  to  your  estate,  mon  cher  Mar- 
quis," cried  the  former. 

"How  happy  am  I  to  meet  again  my  old  friend  de 
l^e^tl^flilit,'|«said  Monsieur  de  Beaucaire. 

*  les,  de  Beaucaire,  I  returned  a  little  before 
jQUt    We  have  seen  adverse  fortune,  but  peiiuit 


137 


ieir 
la 


de 


me  to  introduce  Mons.  )e  ^.tfarquig  des  Abbayes.'^ 
The  latter  bowed;  de  Be  >.acaire  returned  his  salu-  i] 

tation  Mrith  formal  dijo^ilf .  *^  Be  seated,  gentlemen,'* 
said  the  Marquis.  Thej  looked  at  Theodore.  **Thia 
gentleman  is  my  younger  son,  Theodore  de  Cler- 
mont." 

"Welcome  to  your  native  country,  young  gentle* 
man,"  said  Mons.  de  Beaumont.  "1  see,  my  friend, 
you  have  saved  your  children  from  the  wreck.  1  too 
nave  preserved  one  son  from  oiir  family  desolation** 
My  youngest  child  Charles.  He  is  now  absent,  with 
his  regiment ;  but  you  must  be  acquainted  witbhimy 
Mons.  de  Clermont."     Theodore  bowed. 

"  I  also  hope  to  be  honoured  with  your  acquain- 
tance. Monsieur  de  Clermont,"  said  Mons.  des  Ab* 
bayes.     Theodore  again  bowed. 

"I  hope,  Mons.  de  Beaucaire,"  continued  the 
Marquis,  "  that  you  find  your  new  habitation  to  your 
mind.  Monsieur  Pardo  omitted  nothing  that  could 
contribute  to  its  comfort  or  elegance,  although  he  but 
occasionally  resided  l||re,  for  he  was  a  general  in 
the  service,  and  was  oRen  absent,  with  the  army*" 
"  So  we  have  undery|od,"  said  Theodore. 
"  You  were  very  fominate,"  continued  des  Ab* 
bayes,  "that  general  Pardo  and  his  heirs  perished  in 
the  Russian  expedition ;  fur  many  gentlemen  havQ 
returned  with  iFie  King,  and  found  their  estates  oc- 
cupied by  those  who  are  entirely  unwilling  to  give 
up  t»o««session." 

"Shameful   usurpation,"  cried  the  Marquis  de 
BeaucairCr 

"  But  many  persons,"  replied  Mons.  des  Abbayes, 
"have  bought  those  estates,  and  paid  for  them;  and 
their  right  is  confirmed  by  the  present  administra- 
tion." ^. 
"  It  is  but  too  true,"  said  Mons.  de  Beaucair^i^         '  t 
^My  friend,"  said  the  Count  de  Beaumont, "  out 

12* 


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tI^^' 


idd 


I 


^^  country  and  its  children  have  sufiered  much  inju», 
tice.  1  have  experienced  my  share  in .  the  general  * 
calamity.  You  hai^e^r  perhaps,  heard,  geiitlemen,. 
that  the  best  moietv  4>f  my  estate^  has  been  alienate, 
odfromone;  butChajrles  must  make  the  most  of, 
what  remains.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  require  but. 
ittle  for  myself^'' 

The  conversation  continued  for  some  time,  on  the, 
then  state  of  France,  the  .events  of  the  revolution, 
and  other  similar  topicG/.. . 

When  the  gentlemen  arose  to  depart,  pressing  in- 
vitations were  exchanged  between  the  Count  de* 
Beaumont,  and  the  Marquis  de  Beaucaire,  which: 
were  also  extended,  though  rather  reluctantly,  to 
^e  Marquis  des  Abbayea;  but  Mons.  de  Beaucaire^ 
Gould  not  slight  him,  iMtroduced  as  he  was,  by  his  old. 
iri^nd  de  Beaumont. 

The  Marquis  de  Beaucaire  and  liis  son  attended 
their  guests  to  the  door.  .  The  frolendid  equipage,, 
which  belonged  to  des  Abl^ps,  drove  off.  Mons.. 
^  Beaucaire  turned  to  hisJmk.  "What  changes  in 
France,"  he  exclaimed,  "flilr  can  de  Beaumont 
condescend  to  associate  tiiiaijSinniliady  with  that  up«- 
gtartl"  W 

"Monsieur  des  Abbayes  has ^e  appearance  of  ». 
gentleman,"  observed  Theodore. 
^Of^e  new  ficbooV' said  the  Marquis. 


SND  or  VOL.  i« 


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